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7*1 B POrilCAE 

^^m (lOl.DSMITH 














This volume is a reprint, extended and revised, of the 

mss w 1887. It IS 'extended,' because it now con- 
ta.ns the whole of Goldsmith's poetry : it is 'revisr- 
because, besides the supplemental Lt, a gordl, 

tmn. In other words, the book has been substantially 
enlarged Of the new editorial material, the bulk hal 
been coUeeted at odd times during the last twenty 
years^ but fresh Goldsmith facts a. growingTa:! 
I hope I have acknowledged obligation wherever 
t has been incurred; I trust also, for the sake of 
those who eome after me. that som;thi„g r^ ^^ 

^ro^ttitr^^" -------- 

Eal™o. Septen^,, ,906. ^^^^ DOBSON. 



Chronology of Goldsmith's Life and Poems 


The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society 3 

The Deserted Village 21 

^ologue of LaberiuB 41 

On a Beautiful Youth struck Blind with Lightning ... 42 

The Gift. To Iris, in Bow Street 43 

The Logicians Refuted 44 

A Sonnet , . . 46 

Stanzas on the Taking of Queheo 46 

An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize 47 

Description of an Author's Bedchamber 48 

On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the Character of **** 49 

On the Death of the Right Hon.*** 50 

An Epigram. Addressed to the Gentlemen reflected on in The 

Roaeiad, a Poem, by the Author 51 

To G. C. and R. L 51 

Translation of a South American Ode 51 

The Double Transformation. A Tale 52 

A New Simile, in the Manner of Swift 66 

Edwin and Angelina 50 

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog 65 

Song (' When Lovely Woman,' &c.) 67 

Epilogue to The Good Natur'd Man 68 

Epilogue to The Stater 70 

Prologue to Zobeide 72 

Threnodia Augustalis : Sacred to the Memory of Her Late Royal 

Highness the Princess Dowager of Wales .... 74 

Song (' Let School-masters,' &c.} 84 

Epilogue to She Stoops to Conquer 85 

Retaliation 87 

Song ('Abf me! when shall I marry me? ') .... 94 

Translation (* Chaste are their instincts *) 94 


The Hftunch of Venison 

Epiteph on Thomas Parnell 

The Clown's Reply . 

Kpitaph on Edward Purdon 

Epilogue for Lee Lewes 

Epilogue written for She Stcmpi to Conquer (1) 

Epilogue written for She Stoops to Conquer (2) 

The Captivity. An Oratorio . 

Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner 

Letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Buobury 

Vida's Game of Chess .... 



Introduction to the Notes 159 

Editions of the Poems 161 

The Traveller 162 

The Deserted Village 177 

Prologue of Laberius 190 

On a Beautiful Youth struck BUnd with Lightning . 192 

The Gift 193 

The Logicians Refuted 194 

A Sonnet 196 

Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec 196 

Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize 197 

Description of an Author's Bedchamber 199 

On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the character of *«** . 202 

On the Death of the Right Hon. • 202 

An Epigram 203 

ToG. C. andR. L 203 

Translation of a South American Ode 203 

The Double Transformation 203 

A New Simile 206 

Edwin and Angelina 206 

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog 212 

Song (from The Vicar of Wakefidd) 213 

Epilogue {The Good Nalur'd Man) 21* 

Epilogue (r»e Sislcr) 215 

Prologue (Zo6ci(fe) 216 

Threnodia Augu^tAlis 218 

Song (from She Sloopt to Conquer) 219 


Epilogue (She i,looj» to Conquer) 
retaliation . . ^ 

Song intended for she Sloo'pi, to Conguer 

Translation . . , 

The Haunch of Venison . 

Epitaph on Thomas Parnell 

The Clown's Reply . 

Epitaph on Edward Purdon 

Epilogue for Lee Lewes's BeneBt 

Epilogue (She stoops to Conquer) (I) 
Epilogue (She Stoops to Conquer) (2) 
The Captivity ... 
Ver^s in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner 
letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury 
Vida's Game of Chess . 


Portraits of Goldsmith 

Descriptions of Newell's Views of Lissoy &c ' ' 
The Epithet ' Sentimental' 
R-agment, of Translations, 4c.,' by Goldsmith .' 
Goldsmith on P„try under Anne and George the First 
Criticisms from Goldsmith's Beauties of EnglisH Poesy 


■ 220 

. 222 

. 235 

. 236 














Olivmi Goldsmith. From Joseph Marchi's meziotint of ! 770 

after the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds . Fronliapiecc. 

Pank of Glass with Goldsmith's autograph signature, dated 

March, 1746, now at Trinity College, Dublin . . To face p. \i 
VionettetotheTbavellbb. Drawn by Samuel Wale, and 

engraved by Charles Grignion .... To face p. 3 
Headpiece to the Travelleb. Engraved on woo.1 by 

Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer's Poema of GddsmUh and 

Parnell, 1795 . 

p. o 

The Travelleb. From a design by Richard Westall, R.A., 
engraved on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer's Poema 
of OoUsmUh and PaneU,\196 .... To face p. 8 

Vionette to the Deserted Villaoe, 1770. Drawn and en- 

Craved by Isaac Taylor To face p. 21 

Headpiece to the Desebted Village. Engraved on wood by 
Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer's Poema of GoUemith ami ParncU 

™^ ;.23 

The Wateb-Cbess Gatherer. Drawn and engraved on wood 
by John Bewick for Bulmer's Poe„-a of OoldamM and 

P''">M,ms Totacep.21 

The Departure. Drawn by Robert Johnson, and engraved 
on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer's Poema of Gold. 

amith and Parnell. 1195 To face p. 3S 

Edwin and Anoelina. From an original washed drawing 
made by Thomas Stothard, R.A., for Aikin's Ooldamilh'a 

Foel^«dW«rka,im To face p. 59 

Portrait op Goldsmith, after Sir Joshua Reynolds. From an 
etchmg by James Basire on the title-page of Retaliation, 

„ Tofaeepai 

SoNo from the Captivity. Facsimile of Goldsmith's writing 
and signature, from Prior's Life of aiver OoldsmUh, M.B 

1837, ii, frontispiece ro/ace'p.ll9 

Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey. From an engraving in 

the European Mmjazine for January, 1803 . To face p. 180 




} n. jNewell (aoU.fn,lk: Poetical Worts. 181 1 , 
IHii School H008.. From the wme j, 

J- «. n. jNewell (OoldsmilhU Potlical Worlu, 1811) 

rn/awp. 282 
To tau p. 2Pi 

Th. Parsonaok. From the same 



admitted that he was i«markably active ana athletic, and 
that he wag an adept in all boyish sports. At home , not- 
withstanding a variable dispttsition, and occasional lits of 
depression, he showed to greater advantage. He > rib- 
bled verses early ; and sometimes startled those alx)ut s 
him by unexpected * swallow-flights ' of repartee. One of 
these, an oft-quoted retort to a musical friend whc had 
likened his awkward antics in a hornpipe to the dancing 
of Aesop, — 

Heralds I proclaim aloud I all saying. 

See Aetop dancing, and his monkey playing, ^ 

reads more like a iiappily-adapted recollection than the lo 
actual impromptu of a boy of nine. But another, in 
which, after a painful silence, he replied to the brutal 
enquiry of a ne'er-do-well relative as to when he meant 
to grow, by saying that he would do so whrn 
the speaker grew good, — is characteristic of the easily- 1 5 
wounded spirit and ' exquisite sensibility of contempt ' 
with which he was to enter upon t 3 battle of life. 

In June, 1744, after anticipating, in his own penan, the 
plot of his later play of She Sloops to Conquer by mistak- 
ing the house of a gentleman at Ardagh for an inn, he »» 
was sent to Trinity College, Dublin. The special dress 
and semi-menial footing of a sizar or poor scholar — for 
his father, impoverished by the imprudent portioning of 
his eldest daughter, could not afford to make him a pen- 
sioner^ — were scarcely calculated to modify his personal 25 
peculiarities. Added to these, his tutor elect. Dr. Theaker 
Wilder, was a violent and vindictive man, with whom his 
ungainly and unhopeful pupil found little favour. Wilder 
had a passion for mathematics which was not shaxjd by 
Goldsmith, who, indeed, spoke contemptuously enough 30 
of that science; in after life. He could, however, he told 
Malone, ' turn an Ode of Horace into English better than 
any of them .' But his academic career was not a success. 


In M«y, 1 747, the ye.r in which hi* Uther dl«l,-«n event 
that further contracted hiiialready.lender means,- -he be- 
came involved in a college riot, and wai publicly admon- 
ished. From this disgrace he recovered to some extent in 
« the followmg month by obtaining a trifling money exhibi- 
tion.atriumph which he unluckily celebrated by a party at 
his rooms. Into these festivities, the heinousness of 
««*ioh was aggravated by the fact that they included 
S-wits of bolh sexes, the exasperated Wilder made irrup- 
"tio and summarily terminated the proceedings by 
k,. kmg down the host. The disgrace was too much 
for he poor lad. He forthwith sold his books and 
helon^ngs. and ran Pw.y, vaguely bound for America. 
«ut «f.»r -onKiderable privations, including the achieve- 
If mem ,., a .iestitution so complete that a h.indful of grey 
«". pvr.t him by a girl at a wake, seamed a banquet he 
iurned hi* steps homeward, and, a reconciliation having 
ifte^n patched up with his tutor, he was received once 
«.. re at college. In February, 1749, he took his 
"degree, a low one, as B.A., and quitted the university 
J«ivmg behmd him, for relics of tha time, a scratihed 
s* lature upon a window-pane, a /dio Scapula scored 
liberally with promises to pay,' and a reputatio.i for 
much lo.tenng at the college gates in the study of passing 
< humanity. Another habit which his associates reca'led 
was his writing of ballads when in want of funds. These 
he would sell at five shillings apiece ; and would after- 
wartis steal out in the twilight to hear them sung to the 
ind senmmate but applauding audience of the Dublin 
30 streets. 

What was to be done with a genius so unstable so 
erratic ? Nothing, apparently, but to let him qualify for 
orders, and for this he is too young. Thereupon ensues 
a sort of Martin's summer ' in his changing life,— a dis- 
ss engaged, delightful time when ' Master NoU ' wanders 



irreiponaibly from houw to houae, llihing and flute- 
pUying, or, of winter eveningii, taking the chair at the 
village inn. When at taut the moment came for his 
presentation to the Bishop of Elphin, that prelate, sad 
to nay, rejected him, perhaps because of his college repu- ; 
tation, perhaps because of actual incompetence, perhaps 
even, as tradition afHrms, because he had the bad 
taste to appear before his examiner in flaming scarlet 
breeches. After this rebuff, tutoring was next tried. 
But he had no sooner saved some thirty pounds by teach- lo 
ing, than he threw up his engagement, bought a horse, 
and started once more for America, by way of Cork. In 
six weeks he had returned penniless, having substituted 
for his roadster a sorry jade, to which he gave the con- 
temptuous name of Fiddleback. He h 1 also the simpli- I ; 
city to wonder, on this occasion, that his mother was not 
rejoiced to see him again. His next ambition was to be a 
lawyer; and, to this end, a kindlyUncleContarine equipped 
him with fifty pounds for preliminary studies. But on his 
way to London he was decoyed into gambling, lost every lo 
farthing, and came home once more in bitter self-abase- 
ment. Having now essayed both divinity and Iaw,hi8 next 
attempt was physic ; and, in 1752, fitted out afresh by 
his long-suffering uncle, he started for, and succeeded in 
reaching, Edinburgh. Here more memories survive of 15 
his social qualities than of his studies ; and two years 
later he left the Scottish capital for Leyden, rather, it 
may be conjectured, from a restless desire to see the world 
than really to exchange the lectures of Monro for the 
lectures of Albinus. At Newcastle (according to his own 30 
account) he had the good fortune to be locked up as a 
Jacobite, and thus escaped drowning, as the ship by 
which he was to have sailed to Bordeaux sank at the 
mouth of the Garonne. Shortly afterwards he arrived 
in Leyden. Gaubius and other Dutch professors figure 35 



Bonoroiuly in hii future works; but whether li«> had much 
experimental knowledge of their insiructionB may be 
doubted. Wha- leems undeniable in, that the old neduc- 
tion of play stripped him of every thilling ; m that, 
8 like Holberg before him, he net out deliberately to 
make the tourof Europeonfoot. ' Haud inexpetlus loquor,' 
he wrote in after dayii, when praising tliis mode of locomo- 
tion. He first visited Flanders. Tliencehe passed to France, 
Germany, Swiczerland, and Italy, supporting iiimaolf 

10 mainly by his flute, and by occasional disputations at 
convents or univei lities. ' Sir,' said BoswcU to John.son, 
'he ditjmttd his pas.wge through Europe.' When, on the 
l8tFcbruary,1750,he landed at Dover,it was with empty 
pockets. But ho had A-.nt home to his brother in Ireland 

15 his first rough sketch for i.he poem of The Traveller. 

Hewas now seven-and-twenty. Hehad seen and suffered 

much, but he was to have further trials before drifting 

definitely into literature. Between Dover and Tendon, 

it has been surmised, he made a tentative appearance 

JO as a strolling player. His next ascertained p«i t was that 
of an apothecary's assistant on Fish Street Hill. From 
this, with til-, opportune aid of an Edinburgh friend, he 
proceeded— to use an eighteenth-century a poor 
physician ir the Bankside, Southwark, where least of all, 

3 s perhaps, was London's fabled pavement to be found. 
So little of it, in fact, fell to Goldsmith's share, that we 
speedily find him reducer" to the rank of reader and 
corrector of the press to Samuel Richardson, printer, of 
Salisbury Court, author of Clarissa. Later still he is 

30 acting as help or substitute in Dr. Milncr's ' clasaicul 
academy ' at Peckham. Here, at last, chance seemed 
to open to him the prospect of a literary life. He had 
already, says report, submitted a manuscript tragedy 
to Richardson's judgement ; and something he said at 

3f Dr. Milner's table attracted the attention of an occasional 



visitor there, the bookseller Griffiths, who was »!«, ^,„ 
pnetor of the MonMy Se^eu,. He invti Dr MTl„'e"s' 
usher to try his hand at criticism; and finally, int'u 
1757, Goldsmith was bound over for a year to th!V 

f^L h M ^'^' r'" ""'" ^orf«. he was engaged 
for bed, board, and a fixed salary to supply copy-of-aH^ 
work to his master's magazine "Py ot all- 

en JurTfi?"* T """"'"''^ ""« "°* "'""'^^ to 
two, and often lat«r, it came suddenly to an end No 
clear explanation of the breach is forthcoming, but mfr^ 
ncompatibihty of temper would probabl/ suppS^ 
sufficient ground for disagreement. Goldsmith, it Kid 
raSd »^'v "'^''°°'''«"- -d his wife ti;ated h m ,5 

idrl hLt /"r'T^ "°™'™'^- ''^"^ '° -hich th" ' 
lady, a harder taskmistress even than the antigua mater 
above referred to. joined with her husband in ZZT' 
his articles, a course which, hard though it may se^m 
^ not unpi^cedented. However this may be, efthrTn « 
Septemberor October, 1757. he was again upon the world 
existing precariously from hand to mouth ' By a very 

as a poet [a title which, as Prior suggests, possibly means 
no more than author], I make a Thift to^ive/ So h" „ 
wrote to his brother-in-law in December. What his 
literary occupations we,, cannot be definitely stated 
but. If not prepared before, they probably incS 

Grffithr H 7. "'■ " "'"''^'''''"^ --k fssuj b^ 
Griffiths and hers in the ensuing February. This wZ « 
the Menu>,rs of a Protectant, condernr^ed to L o2y7of 
France for hu Beligion. being the authentic record ofth; 
sufferings of one Jean Marteilhe of Bergerac a boot ?,f 
Which Michelet has said that it is ■ wriZTs' i between 
earth and heaven.' Marteilhe, who died at Cuylenrer^, 



r nl]"'ri"l'"* '" "°"''"'' '" '^^»; «"<' 't ">«y be that 
Goldsmith had seen or heard of him during his own stay 

«°'d ""th's name, but that of James Willington. one of 
j 5h,s old class-fellows at Trinity College. Nevertheks^ 

I kno„n) declared it to be by Goldsmith. Moreover 

the French ongmal had been catalogued in Griffiths'' 

magazme in the ^cond month of GoldLith's serSe 

.oa circumstance which colourably supplies the reason t; 

Its subsequent rendering into English 

upon Goldsmith's fortunes, for, in a short time he 

was again installed at Peckham, in place of Dr. Mii, r 
.5.nvalided waiting hopefully for the fulfilment o a 
promise by his old master to piocure him a med cal 
appointment on a foreign station. It is probabrtha 
with a view to provide the needful funds for this expatri: 
ation, he now began to sketch the little volume after- 
awards published under the title of An Enguiry ifotL 
Present Stau of Polite Learning in Europe to! tZlX 
the middle of the year we find him addressing long uZl 
to his relatives in Ireland to enlist their aid in sfl cS 
subscriptions for this book. At length the de 2 
.5 advancement was obtained,-a nominattn as phys S 
and surgeon to one of the factories on the coast of Coro 
mandel. But banishment to the East Indies was notTo 
be his destiny. For some unexplained reason the project 
came to nothing; and then-like Roderick Random-he 
30 presented himself at Surgeons' Hall for the more modesi 
ber 175'« T*'' ■""''■« ^'^'^ ^''^ °" ">e 21st of Decem- 
'f„; r\ ^,.'""* "'""''■ '''""^ '^^'^ that he was 
found not qualified.' What made matters worse, the 

35 had mvolved him in new obligations to Griffiths 


out of which arose freah difficulties. To pay his land- 
lady, whose husband was arrested for debt, he pawned the 
suit he had procured by Griffiths' aid; and he also 
raised money on some volumes which had been sent him 
for review. Thereupon ensued an angry and humiliating 5 
correspondence with the bookseller, as a result of which 
Griffiths, nevertheless, appears to have held his hand. 

By this time Goldsmith had moved into those historic 
but now non-existent lodgings in 12 Green Arbour Court, 
Old Bailey, which have been photographed for ever in 10 
Irving's Tales of a Traveller. It was here that the fore- 
going incidents took place ; and it was here also that, 
early in 1759, ' in a wretched dirty room, in which there 
was but one chair,' the Rev. Thomas Percy, afterwards 
Bishop of Dromore, found him composing (or more prob- 1 5 
ably correcting the proofs of) TheEnquiry. 'At least spare 
invective 'till my book withMr. Dodsley shall bepublish'd,' 
— he had written not long before to the irate Griffiths — 
' and then perhaps you may see the bright side of a mind 
when my professions shall not appear the dictates of 20 
necessity but of choice.' The Enquiry came out on the 
2nd of April. It had no author's name, but it was an 
open secret that Goldsmith had written it ; and to this 
day it remains to the critic one of the most interesting 
of his works. Obviously, in a duodecimo of some two 25 
hundred widely-printed pages, it was impossible to keep 
the high-sounding promise of its title ; and at best 
its author's knowledge of the subject, notwithstand- 
ing liis continental wanderings, can have been but that 
of an external spectator. Still, in an age when critical 30 
utterance was more than ordinprily fuU-wigged and 
ponderous, it dared to be sprightly and epigrammatic. 
Some of its passages, besides, bear upon the writer's 
personal experiences, and serve to piece the imperfections 
of his biography. If it brought him no sudden wealth, 35 


it certainly raised his reputation with thr book-selling 
world. A connexion already begun with Smollett's 
Critical Review was drawn closer; and the shrewd bosii 
of the Row began to see the importance of securing so 
5 vivacious and unconventional a pen. Towards the end 
of the year he was writing for Wilkle the collection of 
periodical essays entitled The Bee; and contributing to 
the same publisher's Lady's Magazine, as well as to The 
Busy Body of one Pottinger. In these, more than ever, 
10 he was finding his distinctive touch; and ratifying anew, 
with every fresh stroke of his pen, his bondage to author- 
sh '.p as a calling. 

He had still, however, to conquer the public. The 
Bee, although it contains one of his most characteristic 
15 essays {'A City Night-Piece '), and sjme of the most 
popular of his lighter verses (' The Elegy on Mrs. Mary 
Blaize'), never attained the circulation essential to 
healthy existence. It closed with its eighth number in 
November, '759. In the following month two 
20 gentlemen called at Green Arbour Court to enlist the 
services of its author. One was Smollett, with a new 
serial, The British Magazine ; the other was Johnson's 
' Jack Whirler,' bustling Mr. John Newbery from the 
' Bible and Sun' in St. Paul's Churchyard, with a new dail- 
25 newspaper, The Public Ledger. For Smollett, Goldsmith 
wrote the ' Reverie at the Boar's Head Tavern ' and the 
' Adventures -^f a Strolling Player,' besides a number of 
minor papers. For Newbery, by a happy recollection of 
the Lettres Persanes of Montesquieu, or some of his imi- 
3otators, he struck almost at once into that charming 
epistolary series, brimful of fine observation, kindly 
satire, and various fancy, which was ultimately to become 
the English classic known as The Citizen of the World. 
He continued to produce these letters periodically until 
3i the August of the following year, when they were an- 



nounoed for republication in ' two volumea of the usual 
Spectator size.' In this form they appeared in May, 1762. 
Bui long before this date a change for the better had 
taken place in Goldsmith's life. Henceforth he was sure 
of work,— mere journey-work though much of it must 5 
have been ; — and, had his nature been less improvi- 
dent, of freedom from absolute want. The humble 
lodgings in the Old Bailey were discarded for new premises 
at No. 8 Wine Office Court, Fleet Street ; and here, on the 
31st of May, 1761, with Percy, came one whose name 10 
was often in the future to be associated with Goldsmith's, 
the great Dictator of London literary society, Samuel 
Johnson. Boswell, who made Johnson's acquaintance 
later, has not recorded the humours of that supper ; but 
it marks the beginning of Goldsmith's friendship with 15 
the man who of all others (Reynolds excepted) loved him 
most and understood him best. 

During the remainder of 1761 he continued busily to 
ply his pen. Besides his contributions to The Ledger and 
The British Magazine, he edited The Lady's Magazine, 20 
inserting in it the Memoirs of Voltaire, drawn up some 
time earlier to accompany a translation of the Henriade 
by his crony and compatriot Edward Purdon. Towards 
the beginning of 1762 he was hard at work on several com- 
pilations for Newbery, for whom he wrote or edited a a 5 
History of MeckUnburgh, and a series of monthly volumes 
of an abridgement of Plutarch's Lives. In October of the 
same year was published the Life of Richard Nash, ap- 
parently the outcome of special holiday-visits to the then 
fashionable watering-place of Bath, whence its fantastic 30 
old Master of the Ceremonies had only very lately made 
his final exit. It is a pleasantly gossiping, and not un- 
edifying little book, which still holds a respectable place 
among its author's minorworks. But a recently discovered 
entry in an old ledger shows that during the latter half 35 



of 1762 he must have planned, if he had not, indeed, 
already in part composed, a far more important effort. 
The Vicar of Wakefield. For on the 28th of October in 
this year he sold to one Benjamin Collins, printer, of 
5 Salisbury, for £21, a third in a work with that title, 
further described as ' 2 vols. 12"".' How this little 
circumstance, discovered by Mr. Charles Welsh when 
preparing his Life of John Newbery, is to be brought 
into agreement with the time-honoured story, related 

10 (with variations) by BosweJl and others, to the effect that 
Johnson negotiated the sale of the manuscript for Gold- 
smith when the latter was arrested for rent by his incensed 
landlady — has not yet been satisfactorily suggested. 
Possibly the solution is a simple one, referable to some of 

1 5 those intricate arrangements favoured by ' the Trade ' at 
a time when not one but half a score publishers' names 
figured in an impnnt. At present, the fact that Collins 
bought a third share of the book from thn author for 
twenty guineas, and the statement that Johnson trans- 

2o ferred the entire manuscript to a bookseller for sixty 
pounds, seem irreconcilable. That The Vicar of Wake- 
field was nevertheless written, or was being written, in 
1762, is demonstrable from internal evidence. 
AboutChristmas in the same yearGoldsmithmoved into 

35 lodgings at Islington, his landlady being one Mrs. Eliia- 
beth Fleming, a friend of Newbery, to whose generalship 
this step seems attrioutable. From the curious accounts 
printed by Prior and Forster, it is clear that the publisher 
was Mrs. Fleming's paymaster, punctually deducting his 

so uisburseraents from the account current between him- 
self and Goldsmith, an arrangement which as plainly 
indicates the foresight of theone as it implies the improvi- 
dence of the other. Of the work which Goldsmith did 
for the businesslike and not unkindly little man, there is 

.15 no very definite evidence ; but various prefaces, intro- 


ductions, and the like, belong to this time; and 
he undoubtedly was the author of the excellent History 
of England in a Series of Letters addressed by a Nobleman 
to his Son, published anonymously in June, 1764, and 
long attributed, for the grace of its style, to Lyttelton, 5 
Chesterfield, Orrery, and other patrician pens. Mean- 
while his range of acquaintance was growing larger. 
The establishment, at the beginning of 1764, of the famous 
association known afterwards as the 'Literary Club' 
brought him into intimate relations with Beauclerk, 10 
Reynolds, Langton, Burkp, and others. Hogarth, too, 
is said to have visited him at Islington, and to have 
painted the portrait of Mrs. Fleming. Later in the <iame 
year,incited thereto by the success of Christopher g irt's 
Hannah, he wrote the Oratorio of The Captivity, now to 15 
be found in most editions of his poems, but never set to 
music. Then, after the slow growth of months, was issued 
on the 1 9th December the elaboration of that fragmentary 
sketch which he had sent years before to his brother 
Henry from the Continent, the poem entitled The Tra- jo 
veller ; or, A Prospect of Society. 

In the notes appended to The Traveller in the present 
volume, its origin and progress are sufficiently ex- 
plained. Its success was immediate and enduring. The 
Beauty of the descriptive passages, the subtle simplicity 15 
of the language, the sweetness and finish of the versifica- 
tion, found ready admirers,— perhaps all the more 
because of the contrast they afforded to the rough and 
strenuous sounds with which Charles Churchill had lately 
filled the public ear. Johnson, who contributed a few 30 
lines at the close, proclaimed The Traveller to be the best 
poem since tlie death of Pope ; and it is certainly not 
easy to find its equal among the works of contemporary 
bards. It at once raised Goldsmith from the condition 
of a clever newspaper essayist, or— as men like Sir John 35 




Hawkins would have said — a mere 'bookseller's drudge,' 
to the foremost rank among the poets of the day. Another 
result of its success was the revival of some of his earlier 
work, which, however neglected by the author, had been 
5 freely appropriated by the discerning pirate. In 
June, 1765, Griffin and Newbery published a little volume 
of Essays by Mr. Goldsmith, including some of the 
best of his contributions to The Bee, The Busy Body, The 
Public Ledger, and The British Magazine, besides ' The 

10 Double Transformation ' and ' The Logicians Refuted,' 
two pieces of verse in imitation of Prior and Swift, which 
have not been traced to an earlier source. To the same 
year belongs the first version of a poem which he himself 
regarded as his best work, and which still retains some- 

15 thing of its former popularity. This was the ballad of 
Edwin and Angelina, otherwise known as The Hermit. 
It originated in certain metrical discussions with 
Percy, then engaged upon his famous Beligues of 
English Poetry ; and in 1765, Goldsmith, who through 

30 his friend Nugent (afterwards Lord Clare) had made the 
acquaintance of the Earl of Northumberland, printed it 
privately for the amusement of the Countess. In a revised 
and amended form it was subsequently given to the 
world in The Vicar of Wakefield. 

25 With the exception of an abortive attempt to resume 
his practice asaraedical man, — anattemptwhichseems to 
have been frustrated by the preternatural strength of his 
preh^^riptions, — the next memorable thing in Goldsmith's 
life is the publication of The Vicar of Wakefield itself. It 

30 made its appearance on the 27th of March, 1766. A 
secondeditionfoUowedinMay, a third in August. Why, 
having been sold (in part) to a Salisbury printer as far 
back as October, 1 762, it had remained unprinted so long ; 
and why, when published, it was published by Francis 

35 Newbery and not by John Newbery. Goldsmith's em- 



onward m spite of tl.em, captivated by the Brace th« 

hioLlih. ' !"^ ""^ "PParently been withheld 

because the previous ed.tion. which consisted of no more . ■ 

tears 7 1°^?" ''"P'"' ^"^ "°' exhaustii Fiv^ 
years elapsed before the sixth edition made its tarty 
appearance ,n 1779. These facts show that the wriS 
contemporaries were not his most eager readers But 

ftheLsh '■""'," "'"'°"''"'^"">'«»»«vecoun?rr 
for he has been translated into most European lanKuaeZ 

onh'To^.^"' '" ^-""^ »- "- verfuble'^S: 

ITfifi >,o J. "' towards the middle of 

countrymen had succeeded before him A °"'*" °f '"^ 




comedy which had gradually gained ground in England ; 
and he determined to follow up Tht Clandtitine Marriage, 
then recently adapted by Colman and Oarrick from' 
Hogarth's Marriage A-la-ModcMtU another effort of the 
ssame clans, depending exclusively for its interest upon 
humour and character. Early in 1 767 it was completed, 
and submitted to Garrick for Drury Lane. But Garrick, 
perhaps too politic to traverse the popular taste! 
temporized; and eventually, after many delays and dis- 
10 appointments, TheGooi Natur'd it was called, was 
produced at Covent Garden by Colman on the 29th of 
January, 1768. Its success was only partial ; and in 
deference to the prevailing craze for the ' genteel,' an 
admirable scene of low humour had to be omitted in the 
15 representation. But the piece, notwithstanding, brought 
the author £400, to which the sale of the book, with the 
condemned passages restored, added another £100. 
Furthermore, Joimson, whose 'Suspirius' in The Rambler 
was, under the name of ' Croaker," one of its most 
JO prominent personages, pronounced it to be the best 
comedy since Cibber's Provok'd Husband. 

During the autumn of 1767, Goldsmith had again been 
hvmg at Islington. On this occasion he had a room in 
Canonbury Tower, Queen Elizabeth'j old hunting-lodge, 
jjand perhaps occupied the very chamber generally used 
by John Newbery, whose active life was, in this year to 
close. When in London he had modest housing 
m the Temple. But the acquisition of i500 for The 
Good Natur'd Man seemed to warrant a change of resi- 
30 dence,and he accordingly expended four-fifthsof that sum 
for the lease of three rooms on the second floor of No. 2 
Brick Court, which he straightway proceeded to decorate 
sumptuously with mirrors, Wilton carpets, moreen cur- 
tains, and Pembroke tables. Tt was an unfortunate 
3J step ; and he would have done '.veil to remember the Nil 



of 8ome earlier lodainm. On« „// . •'"'rtcoming. 
to involvehim ,.*«"■ ""• "' "» natural result, was 

bitious project for Griffin T«,', ^^^ " '"°«' •«»• 
and afte/VM. • ' ^ "'"""Vf Animated Nature ■ 

T>avi:'% vr"f- f "--^ »/ ^».A,„.t; 

he was to hL'Z ZZ fort'""" '^ '"' '*"' «"' '» 
for the laat £m lut » > '^""^ ^ S"'"*""". 

cut blocks ;ith a razT- ^ '""' "*" '^"«'''-" '<> 

-t; tieTii^rcoSd „r'r .^^ ^-'--^ '^ 

unhappy. There are recorSl nf . ' ^'" *''°"^ 
junketings-' shoe.mak.rlT^i/ f ""*"* "c^asional 
the still countr S sTbnl of^HaT t'T"!? "'^'"-■" 
there was the gatherSl^r h" ^Tk^^^^^^^^^ '" 

1-terary magnates, for his severer hours and T I*' 
more pliant moments, the genjii • w ^ ' °' *"' 
shilling whist-club of a less nl? • ^T'^'^'^y °'' 
student of mixed charltr P'"'" '°"« '"'«', where the 
of the old euS ;: G o^f ^;„^^^^ .'^'f" ~hing ., 
mahon. And there must l3 ^ZliJ"" V'"''' 
chastened resting-places of 1.^^ ^ t^' ""^ """^ 
towa-xis the hom^of his youT:iIi. ""'".' '"'"'"'"^ 
more poignant bv fh» J ^""th, with a sadness made 

May, ml r pi 'e^ Xrfeo'::d'^°''^^ "•'"'^ '" - 
r^e DeserUd Village ^ ^ *"" "*"" Po** of 




aedicated. It appeared on the 26th of May, 1770 with 

ran through five ed.t.ona in the year of it, publication ; 
J and ha. ever since retained it. reputation. If, a. aJloacd 
J contemporary critic, ranked it below it. predeee»or, the 
I rTL 'T*^ ^y Washington Irving, tl,at the poet 
f had become hi. own rival, is doubtle« correct; and 

I there i. alway. a prejudice in favour of the first .uccess. 

.on,is, however, is not an obstacle which need disturb 

1 InnT ^ """'^ "P^ •'" '""' P"''"''''^ <l~'de that in grace 

and tenderne*. of de^ription The Dt,erted Village in no 

I wise falls short of The Traveller; and that it. central idea" 

. La r^X? ""' """'"'''• "'^^ '* -^ "'«"" -'- 

^T' l''\f'"^ ^'"^^ ^-^ appeared, Goldsmith 

two Mis. Hornecks, the younger of whom, christened by 

Jb^/^ "!f P""y P*'-"'""" °* 'The Jeswmy 

.oBnde IS suppo«Kl to have inspired him with more than 

fnendly feelmgs Upon hi. return he had to fall again 

t^tff •'""''.building' in order to recruit hi. ex" 

a sho^/ TTp ^T '■''' '■"" P"^" ^^ '""'I Published 
a short L,fe of Pamell; and Davie, now engaged him 

" 7\ '' %^'^^'^- -<J - abridgementof l^^lZl 
a^tory Thus, visit, to friends, among others to 

v^rJ IL %A r \'"°*^ '*•" '^^"8''""' °«<"'«°"''' 
verse c^UedTAe Haunch of Venison, the month, wore 

! of the well-known mezzotint which Marchi had en- 
graved from his portrait by Sir Joshua. 

His chief publications in the next two year, were the 

o^ove-mentioned History of England, 1771; Threncdia 

Ayustalu^ , poetical lament-to-order on the death oHhe 

35 Pnncess Dowager of Wales, 1772 ; and the abridgem nl 




<|o» . group of epitaph-opigramH prompteiJ by »„me 

and other fr.en(U, and left incon,»t hi, death. In 
,:SL't "1- "•,'';.'""^"«^ ««-"• of work and worry 

which he unhappily aggravated by the u»e of a patent 
med.c me ca^ ed • James'. Powder.' He had oftenTehed 

' .o l77i . ^-1 """'P'"'"'- On Monday, the 4th of April, 
tl.e 9th m the burymp ^,„ . , of the Temple Chun], 
bv VnT » "'o- "^^nt, with a medallion portrait 

elf-!, ! T"' ""''. * ^*'" ^"'•'"Ption by Johnson, wa, 
erected to h.m ■• . c.s'min.ter Abbey, at the expanse of 
■S the Literary ... .t although the ir.scription con- 

iotablvT u " ' "^ °' '""^"""^ discrimination, 
notably theoft.c;.< ,• '.,tuumpolens,atlenUdominalor. 

»S IT M*^ 'AT'"* '" " '""" '" I^'n«t"" a™ not a 
be emZi:!^ ""'" ^^''^^ '"'--' 1-* "ot his frailties 
be remembered : he was a very great man.' 

In person Goldsmith was short and strongly built. 
H.S compkxmn was rather fair, but he was deepfv scarred 
*'h small-pox ; and-if we may believe his own account 
^;; t T'r:'"^.««.«"d P"vations of his early life had 
not tended to dimmish his initial disadvantages. ' You 
scarcely can conceive,' l.e writes to his brother in 1769 
how much eight years of disappointment, a.^guish, and 

aoSemelTHT™"""*"""- ' ' ' ^"*«'"« '° y°"™«" "^ 
fhe e r ^ ^ ."'^''' "■'"' '«'° ^'"'' *""We8 between 
ihe eye-brows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a big 
w'g , and you may have a perfect picture of my present 

35 hesitating, disagreeable manner of speaking, and a visage 



that looks ill-nature itself. • ,. 
-yself into a setU^ SLZ:°''^ ' """'" ">°"«''' 
of all that life brings whh U • "^t T f ■'''''' ^^''e^' 
description is largely colou~H K °""" *''»' ""is 
' His features/ sa/s one eonSn^ "T"* ''^P'^^ion. 
not repul8ive,_certariv nnf ^ u"""^' ""^"^ ?''''»• b"t 5 
versation. A^^th 'Int/^?? j'^''*^'^ "^ "^ -- 
declares that 'his benrvoWr '^^"'y ^"^^ '~ 

i.- countenance bor~rce7it "Tt"^'''^- """^ 
would seem to lie midwav b^fl u "" ^""^ "^eness 

;"> Sketch byBunbutTCrXt?";'^ *'"''■ " 
Vemaon, and the portraif ^^1 H ** ^a«ncA 0/ 

-hich Reynolds V^^Z'inlyTllrr' '^^'^^' 
shown wearing, i„ pi„„. J"™' /" ^is latter he is 
scant brown hair, and on ^ ;"^*°™'"y -%■ his own 
;n a furred robe, and Whngt ,ar"Tut ' ""'^'^T""''' '^ 
the disguise of a studio ' coft^e • the fin T'" *'"""«'' 
genius of Reynolds has m.„ !' . ^^^cly-perceptive 
is most appeahng „ hTs sTte^^ ° ^"^«"' '""«'' that 
present enLanfe. thf c Jn^to bT ^' -*""«> 
mute deprecation of contemnf !r '"' ""''.^'^'ood, the « 
in this pathetic picture Ssb f ''""'" '««'»"y 
often very ineictirely fo^ ,t''" ''fr'""^ ""P'^^' 
'hat the slightest devfation h ,' ,"" '^ '^' "^^ 

vulgarizes what Reynoirhrd^'"^ ''''*°^'« ^"1 
for ever. ^ ^ ''^ ^°"« supremely, once and ,5 

"e?'tr seetrmt: ^P ^"' ^^^ ^^ ^P'-'" 
Poraries is the TCnL .' '""P''^'"^ ^'' ^""^m- 

antithetic epigram of G^rriTf '''"''' ^^ "^« ''Wily- 

-d his conv'::^^ ^d'colT^f'T''^^^^^^^ 
eminenceasaliterarvman"nHu "'"'""y' ''«'^««n his 
Much of this is ea"l7reSt%r d^r^'^''''"^^- 
with few temporal or phyS advent "^ ^ '"« 

native susceptibility th:t^i„'iSrS:fr tn't." 





had left their mark uTon L» - °^ = ""^ "'^"^ 

cation of ne TmS L h ""'■ ^'*'* ^''^ P-Wi- 

5 of some of the brst I Lt ^^ f,' °"''^ *>•« «--ate 

such as Reynolds and Garriot nf <• n ^"«'°"' "^ artists 
and Burke. Morbidly seTfet^"" '""^ "^ •^'"^"«°" 
to succeed, he was at'^n e foTe^'""!' "^--^"-'y --ous 
'o which neither his anterJ!n. V ° * '^""'Petition for 
prepared him. To "ws .oTlT '■ ■ "'"^"S'^otions had 
poverty, must be attributed? J'"' '^' °^^ ^'^^'^ °f 
clothes, which ^u^Slrl^tf-^'^^P^'^''''^ for fine 
a mistaken attempt toTf Z™" ''""'^^ »'«'" f™m 

'^ -st obvious sir;: „7"r :tik'^ '^" '° •'^ ••^^ 

was ill.fitted to shine h! ^ ^ ^ ^'P<«'i'»"y he 

retort, and often d scomfi^^ '"'"^ disconcerted by 
of his days he neZ7^t:i7"T'- ^° *'■" ^^ 
he himself tells us) he had 1 f"" '''"«"^ ' ""^^ <- 
"to a narrator, a sow and h .T'* '""'' °' ''"f^^'^ 
Pe-Piouity which ^LTtheT'"^ .'"^""^^- ^he 
deserted him in converJl ion .T .°^ '''^ ^"""8^ 
"momentary flashes. But some' of th ''"* *"'"«' -«'" 
^«ry happy. His telhn. ?T * ^''^ undoubtedly 

'5 the little fifhes talk nk|h"SL"r *'L"* '^ ^'"^'^ """^' 
that he wound into a suMeoTl ' ''«™'^«on of Burke 
dozen other we"l ^1" iV ' " ''^P""*' «"d half-a- 
proof of this. Som™hW o"f .r""P'"-''^°'^ ''"■P'e 
«aid to have exlS iifh '''l""^''^^ J^^'ousy he is 
3° temporaries may a lo brln *!'1 *° ''"'''" °' »"•« «on- 
tion of obscurit/durL'Xcrh . j;* ''"^ '°"« P^"*"" 
the good fortunLf o h'erlt i' ^t '"" '^ 'P^^*"*- "^ 



reaction from want to sufficiency, it can still less be sun- 
posed to have been diminished by that change. If he 
was careless of money, it must also be remembered th«t 
he gave much of it away; and fortune lingers little with 
those whose ears are always open to a plausible tale of 5 
distress. Of his sensibility and genuine kindheartedness 
there .s no doubt. And it is well to remember that most 
of the tales to his disadvantage come, not from his more 
distinguished companions, but from such admitted 
detractors as Hawkins and Boswell. It could be no .0 
mean individuality that acquired the esteem.and deserved 
the regret, of Johnson and Reynolds 

In an edition of Goldsmith's poems, any extended 
examination of his remaining productions would be out 
of place. Moreover, the bulk of these is considerably,, 
reduced when all that may properly be classed as hack- ' 
work has been withdrawn. The histories of Greece, of 

,Z^'^"t ? ^"^'""-^^ *''" ^»™«'«<' ^«<«re; the lives 
of Nash Voltaire, Parnell, and Bolingbroke, are merely 
compilations, only raised to the highest level in that line 20 
because they proceeded from a man whose gift of clear 
andeasyexposition lent acharm toeverything he touched. 
With the work which he did for himself, the case is dif- 

irT* J"'".?' ^''"'" "f '^' ^'''^' ^*« Vi^'^r of 
Wakefield and his two comedies, he put all the best of,, 
his knowledge of human nature, his keen sympathy with 
his kind, his fine common-sense and his genial humour. 
Ihe same qualities, tempered by a certain grace and ten- 
derness, also enter into the best of his poems. Avoiding 
the epigram of Pope and the austere couplet of Johnson 30 
he yet borrowed something from eacii, which he combined 
with a delicacy and an amenity that he had learned from 
neither He himself, in all probability, would have 
rested his fame on his three chief metrical efforts, The 
Traveller, The Hermit, and The Deserted Village. But 35 



as is often the case, lie is remembered evenmorefavourably 
by some of those deligl'tful familiar verses, unprinted 
during his lifetime, which he threw off with no other 
ambition than the desire to amuse his friends. Retaliation, 
5 The Haunch of Venison, the Letter in Prose and Verse to 
Mrs. Bunbury, all afford noteworthy exemplification of 
that playful touch and wayward fancy which constitute 
the chief attraction of this species of poetry. In his 
imitations of Swift and Prior, and his variations upon 
10 French suggestions, his personal note is scarcely so ap- 
parent ; but the two Elegies and some of the minor pieces 
retain a deserved reputation. His ingenious prologues 
and epilogues also serve to illustrate the range and 
versatility of his talent. As a rule, the arrangement in 
15 the present edition is chronological; but it has not been 
thought necessary to depart from the practice which 
gives a time-honoured precedence to The Traveller and 
The Desertku Village. The true sequence of the poems, in 
their order of publication, is, however, exactly indicated 
20 in the table which follows this Introduction. 











Novmber 10. Born at Pallas, near Ballymahon, in tho 

county of Longford, Ireland, 
^family remove to Lisscy, in tho county of Westmoat'h. 
Under Elizabeth Delap. 

Under Mr. Thomas Byrne of the village school. 
-44. At school at Elphin (Mr. Griffin's), Athlonc (Mr. 
Campbell's), Edgeworthstown (Mr. Hughes's). 
June U. Admitted a sizar of Trinity College, Dublin, 

'annum agms 15.' 
[Death of his father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith.] 
May. Takes pWrt in a college riot. 
June 15. Obtains a Smythe exhibition. 
Runs away from college. 

February 27. Takes his degree as Bachelor of Arts. 
Rejected for orders by the Bishop of Elphin. 
Tutor to Mr. Flinn. 
Sets out for America (vid Cork), but returns. Letter fo 

Mrs. Goldsmith (his mother). 
Starto as a law student, but loses his all at play. 
Goes to Edinburgh to become a medical student. 
January\3. Admitted a memberofthe 'Medical Society* 

of Edinburgh. 
May 8. Letter to his Uncle Contarine. 
September 26. Letter to Robert Bryanton. 
Letter to his Uncle Contarine. 
Goes to Leyden. Letter to his Uncle Contarine. 
February. Leaves Leyden. 
Takes degree of Bachelor of Medicine at Louvain (?). 
Travels on foot in France, Germany, Switzerland, and 

Sketches The Traveller. 
February 1. Returns to Dover. 
Low comedian; usher (?); apothecary's journeyman; 
poor physician in Bankside, Southwark. 





1787. Press corrector to Samuel Richardson, printer and 

novelist ; assistant at Peokbam Academy (Dr. Milner's). 
Apra. Bound over to Oriffiths the bookseller. 
Quarrels with Griffiths. 

December 27. Letter to bis brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson. 
1758. February. Publishes The Memoir» of a ProteMarU, eon- 

demned to the Galleys of France for his Rdigion. 
Gives up literature and returns to Peekbam. 
August. Leaves Peckham. Letters to Edward Mills, 

Bryanton, Mrs. Jane Lawder. 
Appointed surgeon and physician to a factory on the Const 

of Coromandel. 
November (?). Letter to Hodson. 
Moves into 12 Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey. 
Coromandel appointment comes to nothing. 
December 21. Rejected &„ Surgeons' Hall as ' not quali- 

fied ' for a hospital mate. 
1788. February (t). Letter to Henry Goldsmith. 

March. Visited by Percy at 12 Green Arbour Court. 
April 2. Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning 

in Europe published. ' Prologue of Laberius ' {Enquiry). 
October 6. The Bee commenced. ' On a Beautiful Youth 

struck blind with Lightning ' (Bee). 
October 13. ' The Gift ' (Bee). 

„ 18. ' The Logicians Refuted ' ^Busy Body). 

„ 20. ' A Sonnet ' (Bee). 

„ 22. ' Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec ' (Busy 

October 27. ' Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize * {Bee). 
AWemfter 24. The Bee closed. 
1760. January 1. The British Magazine commenced. 

„ 12. The Pnblic Ledger commenced. 

„ 24. First Chinese Letter published {Citizen of the 

May 2. 'Description of an Author's Bedchamber' 

(■ Chinese Letter ' in Public Ledger). 
October 21. ' On seeing Mrs. . . . perform,' Ac. ('Cbir.c.-e 

Letter ' in Public Ledger). 
B!diting Lady's Magazine. Compiling Prefaces. 
Moves into 8 Wine Office Court, Fleet Street. 







1761. Mar,^4. "On .he Death of the Right Hon. . . 
( Chinese Letter ' in Public Ledger) 

'*^*"'*"t'^" Epigram': To G. C. and R. L. 

( Chinese Letter in Public Ledger) 
*°* "• 'T^'-'tation of a South American Ode.' 

( Chinese letter in Public Ledger) 
May 31 Visited by Johnson at 8 Wine Office Court 

W^t' ^' """""' ^""' '"'"'"'''"^ '^*'''" "' "*' 
Mm^r> ofM.dc YOlaire published in Lady^e Magazine. 
February 23. on Cock Une Ghost pubrhed. 

" 28. Hxalory of Mecaenhurgl, ^xMioh^. 
May 1. C.««en o/ the World published.*'''''"-™'-'"'''-^"''"^-"'- 

October 14. Life of Richard Na,h published. 

,. 28. Sells third share of Ffcor of Wakefidd to 

B. Collins, printer, Salisbury. 
At Mrs. Fleming's at Islington 

. T^' ®;rl f 'f " ""^ ^'■'^'^- (Never done.) 

jLro«»°^f'''^ri''*"''™'y ''»'"''«' "f the Temple. 

June 26 Htetory of England, in a eerie, of Later, hom 

a NoMeman to hi. Son pahiiahed "^' trom 

December 19. The Trav^er pMiehed 

''"Z t 1""^' ^ "'■ ^ol^ith published. "The 

Double Transformation,' ' A New Simile ' {E„ay,). 
Ed^n and Angelina (The HermU) printed privately for 

the amusement of the Countess of Northumberland 
Kesumes practice aa a physician. 
Jforc* 27 Vicar of Wakefidd published. 'Elegy on 
mIV y '' ?J^^'' So^'inear of Wake^). 
■«a»3L r«oro/Woie/f«H, 2nd edition. 
June. Translation of Formey'a Conei,e Hudory of Philo- 

,ophy and Philoaophera published 
AuguH 29. Vicar of Wakefidd. 3rd edition. 
December 15. Poem, for Young Ladie, published. 











Deetmher 28. Engluh Qrammar written. 
April. Btautia of Engluli Potty published. 
Jvly 19. Living in Garden Court, Temple. 

„ 25. Letter to the St. Jamtt't Chronicle. 
[December 22. Death of John Newbery] 
. Februarys. Publiahea Tie Ooorf iVo/ur'd Jf an, a Comedy, 
produced at Covent Garden, January 29. ' Epiloguo 
to The Good Natur'd Man.' 
Moves to 2 Brick Court, Middle '''emple. 
[May. Death of Henry Goldsmith.] 
Living at Edgware. 
February 18. ' Epilogue to Mrs. Lenox's Sister: 

.. 29. Agreement for ' a new Natural History of 
Animals ' (Animated Nature). 
Way 18. Roman History published. 
June 13. Agreeuent for History of En^nd. 
December. Appointed Professor of History to the Royal 

January. Letter to Maurice Goldsmith. 
AprU 24-May 26. Portrait by Reynolds exhibited. 
May 26. The Deserted Village published. 
July 13. Life of Thomas Pamdl published. 
Jidy. On the Continent with the Homecks. Letters to 

September 15. Agreement for abridgement of Xoman 

December I. Marohi's print from Reynolds's portrait 

December 1 9. Life of Bdingbrohe published. 
Vicar of Wakefield, 4th edition. 
Haunch of Venison written. (?) 
August 6. History of En^nd published. 
December 11. ' Prologue to Cradock's Zobeide.' 
February 20. Threnodia AugusUdis published. 
Watson's Engraving of Resignation published. 
December. Abridgement of Raman History published. 
March 26. Publishes She Stoops to Conquer ,- or. The 
Mistakei of a Night, a Comedy, produced at Covent 
Garc'.en. MuK-h 1.5. ' Song in She Stmps to Conquer,' 
Epilogue to She Stoops to Conquer.' 




1773. Mareh24. KenticVi libel \n the Lmdm Pathl. 
.. 31. Letter in the Dailg Advertiur. 

Mays. neOrumWw produced. 

Projeot* a Dictionary of ArU and Scitnea. 

Marrh 28. IllaeM. 

April 4. Death. 

,, 9. • Buried 9th April, Oliver Goldraith, MB, late 
of Bnok-oourt. Middle Temple' (Register of BuriaU, 
Temple Church). 

April 19. Retaliation published. 

April. Vicar of Wakcfidd, Sth edition (dated 1773) 

June. Song (' Ah me, when shall I many me f •) pub- 

June 28. Letters of Administration granted. 

T: f'.^**^ "I '*• ^'' • "^ ^»<-<^ Nature pub- 
lished. Translationfrom Addison.' (HiMo"y,lK.,mi) 
The Haun^ of Veni,m published. ' on Thomas 
Parnell. and Two Songs from The Captivity ' I Haunch 
of Ventson). 
Monument with medallion by Nollekens ereoted in the 

south transept of Westminster Abbey. 
Poem, and Play, published. 'The Clown's Reply' 

Epitaph on Edward Pardon ' {Poem,, &o., 1777) 
Vicar of Wakefield, 6th edition. 

Poetical and Dramatic Work,. Evans's edition, published 

Epilogue for Lee Lewes ' {Poetical. 4o., Work,, 1780). 

Mmdlaneou, Work,, Percy's edition, published. 'Epi- 

loguea (unspoken) to She Sloop, to Conquer ' I31i,c 

Work,, 1801). 

Mi^laneou, Work,, 'trade' edition, published. 'An 

Oratorio ' {The CaptivUy). {Muk. Work,, 1820.) 
Mucdlaneou, Work,, Prior's edition, published. ' Verses 
m Reply to an Invitation to Dinner ' ; ' Letter in Prose 
and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury ' {Mix. Work,, 1837). 
Tablet erected in the Temple Church. 
Ooldmith', Work,, Cunningham's edition, published 
Translation of Vida's Game of Cheu' {Work, 1864 
vol. iv). 

January 5. J. H. Foley's statue placed in front of 
Dublin University. 














Dear Sir, 

and perhaps it demanT .„ "'°"'**°' a Dedication • , 
name to Ty .tt!^S ZcTZ h'^P '" ^^'^''^ y""^ 
your own. But as a paTt of S p*"''"" 8"'"8 *'"' 
written to you from iwLindf^'^'"^^ *°™"'y propriety, be only nscribeH' / *''°'? '"" n«^. 
throw a %ht upon many parts of"/"".- ^' *'" "'^^ ■= 
understands, that it is ad/re?S to 1' *'""!' ">" ""^oder 
Fame and Fortune has r^S ■""""• *''°- ''•^sp'sinK 
Obscurity, with an 'ii7Xrv n^ '"/"PP'"-- an! 
^ I now perceive, mv dear hl^^^ P.?"''^. * J'^ar. 
humble ctoice. You have ent» J' "'^ "'"^°'" °f ^ur " 
where the harvestTs grlat indih"T." '«'"^'' ''«''^'". ' 
few; while you have Ieft7h»fiu A* 'abourera are but 
labourers are many and t p 1 "* Ambition, where the 
away. But of all kinds of amhir'"' r' «°"'' carrying 
ment of the times, W 5 fferent's°v^t:'"" ',""" '''^ "^fi"" " 


e mma a less laborious entertainment, 


not heard of late i "Cour of huJv ""fc^ms have we 
odes, choruses. anaplTand iimhr^'^tr?"'* ?'"'1»" 
and happy negligXT Ever^ "b uHk^^''^^^ '^^ 
champion to defend if • .rV*"^, ^R^uraity has now a 

the w?ong, so he has aiwtvs mnoh f ^'''""'^/ """"^ « 
ever talkltive. ^ "'"'''' *° «*y = ^or error is 

I meL*'prrty.''"Ct7e^ti^rH^?f ""■°-<'-««™u^. '" 
and destroys the t^te^ Wh^n^fh '*-'*^'-*''" iud|ment 
with this disease, Tcan onlv fin^ f""'' '" ?""« *"'«<"«» 
tributes to incre^e th« .IjrfT ^ P'^Mure in what con- 
seldom desL~om pu^S^^^^ H^; "if ''eer. that 45 
preyed upon hum^ S the ™^ **"■ ^"T^ """^ 
gratified his appetite wf«, cdun,^ 'i,'"*'" •"" °"<=« 
the most agrSkfr^t n^«^^' i?*""?' ^^^^ "^^r, 
Such readera^erallv^ "iP°" """^^ir* ."-^Putation. 
who wants to be tSeht a h^nlH ''f "^.'tted thing, 50 

abu^.^part^nTMlwl'^r '""' -"'"hVaTneither .,, 
nor am I soHchous to knovT M '"^P""* ''' ^ ""^n""* ^11, 
out espousing the cause of Inv ™^r.*""A'"* "«^'- ^ith: 
moderate thf rage of all I^h?v ^' I '"'^^ attempted to 
that there maX eoual ha^nlr"'*-^*^""'^ *° ^^ow, 
differently govJm^f?omon?.P^^''.i" ."'**«"- ^at are 60 
a particular prin™^eofT„™L^ = ^i'^' *^«7 «<*<* has 
in each mayTe cS ^^^ •''i?"'^ *•"** *» P™eiple 
are few can judge Wf^ fh^T^'^''°']l "'^'^'^ There 
positions are ilffia'^^tttUm""''' '"" ''*'■ *-% 

I am, dear Sir, 
i:our most affectionate Brother, 

Olivbr Goldsmith. 



Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, 
Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po ; 
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian bo^r 
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; 
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, 
A weary waste expanding to the skies : 
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, 
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to the^ ; 
StUl to my brother turns with ceaseless pain. 
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 

Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend. 
And round his dwelling guardian saints atteiid • 
Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire 
To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire • 
Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair , 
And every stranger finds a ready chair : 
Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd 


Where all the ruddy family around 
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, 
Or 8,gh with pity at some mournful tale 
Or press the bashful stranger to his food. 
And learn the luxury of doing good. 

But me, not destin'd such delights to share. 
My pnme of We in wand'ring spent and care. 
Impell d, with steps unceasing, to pui^ue 
Some fleetixig good, that mocks me with the view 
That, hke the circle bounding earth and skies. 
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies- 
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone 
And find no spot of all the world my own. ,, 

E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, 
I ait me down a pensive hour to spend • 
And plac'd on high above the storm's career 
Look downward where a hundred realms appear; 
Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, ,. 

The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. 

When thus Creation's charms around combine, 
Amidst the store, should thankless pride repine ? 
Say. should the philosophic mind disdain 
That good, which makes each humbler bosom vain? 
Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can. 4, 

These little things are great to little man ■ 
And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind 
Exults in all the good of all mankind. 
Ye ghtt'ring towns, with wealth and splendour crown'd 
^e faelds, where summer spreads profusion round, 46 
ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale. 
Ye bending swains, that dress the flow'ry vile, 


For me your tributary stores combine ; 
Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine ! 


As some lone miser visiting his store. 
Bends at his treasure, counts, re-counts it o'er ; 
Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, 
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still : 
Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, 55 

Fleas'd with each good that heaven lo man supplies : 
Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, 
To see th hoard of human bliss so small ; 
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find 
Some spot to real happiness consign'd, 60 

Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest. 
May gather bliss to see my fellows bless'd. 

But where to find that happiest spot below, 
Who can direct, when all pretend to know ? 
The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 65 

Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own. 
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas. 
And his long nights of revelry and ease ; 
The naked negro, panting at the line. 
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, ;o 

Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave. 
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. 
Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roem, 
His first, best country ever is, at home. 
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 

And estimate the blessings which they share, 
Though patiiots flatter, still shall wisdom find 
An equal portion dealt to all mankind. 




As different good, by Art or Nature given, 

To different nations makes their blessings ;ven. ,» 

Nature, a mother kind alike to aU 
^|1 grants her bliss at Labour's earnest call • 
Wuh food as well the peasant is supplied 
Onldra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side 
And though the rockyc^sted summit^ frown 
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of dl'n 

Wealth commerce, honour, liberty, content. 
Yet these each other's power so strong contest 
That either seems destructive of the .ist. „, 

Hence eve, rt::ot;rv"---J-^^ 

Each to the favourite happiness attends. 
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends ■ 
W^ earned to excess in each domain, ' 

This favounte good begets peculiar pain. 

But let us try these truths with closer eves 

Ld.e yon neglected shrub at random cast. 

That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. 

Bnght as the summer, Italy extends ; ' 

Ite uplands sloping deck the mountain's side 
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride • 

8o J 




While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between 
With venerable grandeur mark the scene. no 

Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, 
The sons of Italy were surely blest. 
Whatever fruits in different climes were found, 
That proudly rise,' or humbly court the ground ; 
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 115 

Whose bright succession decks the varied year ; 
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky 
With vernal lives that blossom but to die ; 
These here dispcrting own the kindred soil. 
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; no 

While sea-bom gales their gelid wings expand 
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. 

But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, 
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. 
In florid beauty groves and fields appear, nj 

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. 
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign ; 
Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; 
Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; 
And e'en in penance planning sins anew. 130 

All evils here contaminate the mind, 
That opulence departed leaves behind ; 
For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date. 
When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state ; 
At her command the palace leam'd to rise, 135 

Again the long-fall'n column sought the skies ; 
The canvas glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm, 
The pregnant quarry teem'd with htunan form ; 
Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, 



Commerce on other shores display'd her rail ; 14a 
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, 
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a slave ; 
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill, 
Its former strength was but plethoric ill. 

Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied 
By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride ; 
From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind 
An easy compensation seem to find. 
Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, 
The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade ; 
Processions form'd for piety and love, 
A mistress or a saint in every grove. 
By sports like these are all their ares beguil'd 
The sports of children satisfy the child ; 
Each nobler aim, repress'd by long control, 
Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul ; 
While low delights, succeeding fast behind, 
In happier meanness occupy the mind : 
As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, 
Defac'd by time and tottering in decay, 160 

There in the ruin, heedless of the dead. 
The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed, 
And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile. 
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. 

My soul, turn from them ; turn we to survey 165 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display, 
Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread. 
And force a churlish soil for scanty bread ; 
No product here the barren hills afford. 
But man and steel, the soldier and his sword : 170 





No vernal bloomB their torpid rocks array, 
But winter ling'ring chilU the lap of May ; 
No Zephyr fondly men the mountain's breast, 
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. 

Yet still, e'en here, content can spread a charm, 
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. 176 

Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, 
He sees his little lot the lot of all ; 
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head 
To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; i«o 
No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal 
To make him loathe his vegetable meal ; 
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil. 
Each wish contracting, tits him to the soil. 
Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, i8f 
Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes ; 
With patient angle trolls the finny deep. 
Or drives his vent'rous plough-share to the steep ; 
Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way. 
And drags the struggling savage into day. 190 

At night returning, every labour sped. 
He sits him down the monarch of a shed ; 
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys 
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze ; 
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, 195 
Displays her cleanly platter on the board : 
And haply too some pilgrim, thither led, 
With many a tale repays the nightly bed. 

Thus every good his native wilds impart. 
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart, 100 



And e'en those illti, that round hU manHion rise, 
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supphes. 
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, 
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; 
And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, J05 
Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, 
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 
But bind him to his native mountains more. 

Such are the charms to barren states assign'd ; 
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd. no 
Yet let them only share the praises due, 
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few ; 
For every want that stimulates the breast, 
Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest. 
Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies. 
That first excites desire, and then supplies ; ji6 

Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, 
To fill the languid pause with finer joy ; 
Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame. 
Catch every nerve, and "ibrate through the frame. 
Their level life is but a smould'ring fire, an 

Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong desire ; 
Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer 
On some high festival of once a year, 
In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, uj 

Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. 

But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow : 
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low; 
For, as refinement stops, from sire to son 
UnaltCT'd, unimprov'd the manners run ; jjo 



And love's and fHendship's finely fiointed dart 

Fall blunted from each indurated heart. 

Some itemer virtue* o'er the mountain's breast 

May sit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest ; 

But all the gentler morals, such as play jjj 

Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the ,,ay, 

These far dispeni'd, on timorous pinions fly, 

To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. 

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn ; and France displays her bright domain. J40 
Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, 
Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please, 
How often have I led thy sportive choir. 
With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire ! 
Where shading elms along the margin grew, 245 

And freshen'd from the wave the Zephyr flew ; 
And haply, though my harsh touch falt'ring still. 
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
Yet would the village praise my wondrous power. 
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. 350 

Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days 
Have led their children through the mirtliful maze, 
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, 
Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threescore. 

So bless'd a life these thoughtless realms display. 
Thus idly busy rolls their world away : 2^6 

Tlieirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, 
For honour forms the social temper here : 
Honour, that praise whicii real merit gains, 
Or e'en imaginary worth obtains, jSo 



Here pamea current ; paid from hand to hand, 
It ahiftK in Hplendid traffic round the land : 

rom courta, to camp*, to cottager it atrays, 
And all are taught an avarice of praise ; 164 

They pleane, are pleaH'd, they give to get esteem, 
Till, seeming bleiw'd, they grow to what they seem. 

But while this softer art their bliss supplies, 
It gives their follies also room to rise ; 
For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, 
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought ; J70 

And the weak soul, within itself unblest, 
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. 
Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art. 
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart ; 
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, J75 

And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace ; 
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer. 
To boast one splendid banquet once a year ; 
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws. 
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 380 

To men of other minds my fancy flies, 
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. 
Methinks her patient sons before me stand. 
Where the broad ocean leans against the land. 
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, jsj 

Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. 
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow. 
The firm-connected bulwark seems to gr iv>- ; 
Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar, 
Sroops out an empire, : 'd usurps the shore ; ^90 


While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile, 

Sees an amphibiouH world beni-ath him smile ; 

The slow canal, the yellow-bloHsom'd vale, 

The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, 

The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, ;„5 

A new creation rescu'd from his reign. 

Thus, while around the wave-subjecteu soil 
Impels the native to repeated toil, 
Industrious habits in each bosom reign, 
And industry begets a love of gain. -co 

Hence all the good from opulence that springs. 
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, 
Are here displayed. Their niuch-lov'd woalth imparts 
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts ; 
But view them closer, craft and fraud appear, 
E'en liberty itself is barter'd here. 
At gold's superior charms all freedom flies. 
The needy sell it, and the rich man bu^., ; 
A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, 
Here wretches seek dishonourable graves. 
And calmly bent, to servitude conform. 
Dull as their lakes that slumber in the biorm. 



Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic siip.s of old ! 
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold , 
War in each breast, and freedom on each Irowjaij 
How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! 

Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, 
And flies where Britain courts the western spring ; 
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride. 
And brighter streams than fam'd Hyda.sp«t glide. 




The„ all around the gentlest b^^zes stmv. 
The.^ gentle music melts on ev'ry spray 
C^at.on>s mildest charms are there c'omb'in'd 
Extremes are only i„ the master's mind .- ' 
Stern oer each bosom reason holds her state 
Wthdarmgaimsir^gularlyg^t; **'' 

Pnde m the.r port, defiance in their eye 
I Bee the lonls of human kind pass bT 
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful ba'nd, 

T^ue to .magin'd right, above control. 

Mmds combat minds, repelling and «d 
Ferments arise, imprison-d factions rT 
R W ambition struggles round W shore 
Till over-wrought, the general system fe^ls ' 
It« motions stop, or f.„.yfi,^Hewh2. 

As^'dutv' I *' "°'''- "^^ "^*"-'« «- decay 
A3 duty, love, and honour fail to 









Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, 

Stffl gather strength, and force unwilling awe. ' 

Hence all obedience bows to these alone. 

And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown ; 

Till time may come, when stripped of all her charms, 

The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, 356 

Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame 

Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame, 

One sink of level avarice shall lie, 

And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die. 360 

Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, 
I mean to flatter kings, or court the great ; 
Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire. 
Far from my bosom drive the low desire ; 
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel 365 
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel ; 
Thou transitory flower, alike undone 
By proud contempt, or favour's fostering sun. 
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure, 
I only would repress them to secure : 3-0 

For just experience tells, in every soil. 
That those who think must govern those that toil ; 
And all that freedom's highest aims can reach. 
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each. 
Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow, 375 
Its double weight must ruin all below. 

O then how blind to all that truth requires, 
Who think it freedom when a part aspires ! 
Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms. 
Except when fast-approaching danger warms : 380 



But when contending chiefs blockade the th«,ne 
Contractmg regal power to stretch their own • ' 
When I behold a factious band agree 
To call it freedom when themselves are free; 
Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, ,8, 
Laws grmd the poor, and rich men rule the law 
Th weath of climes, where savage nations roam 

^Ulagd from slaves to jurehase slaves at home ■ 

i'ear, pity, justice, indignation start 

Tear off reserve and bare my swelling heart ; 390 

Till half a patriot, half a coward grown 

1 fly from petty tyrants to the throne. 

Yes, brother curse with me that baleful hour. 
When first ambit.on struck at regal power- 
And thus polluting honour in its souree. 
Gave wealth to sway the mind with double foree 
Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore 
Her useful sons exchang'd for .sele^ ^^ , '°"' 
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste flarmg tapers brighfning as they waste; 
Seen opulence, her gmndeur to maintain, 
Lead stern depopulation in her train 
And over fields where scatter'd hamtets „,se. 
In barren solitary pomp repose » 
Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call. 
The smiling long-frequented village fall » 
Beheld the duteous son. the sire decay'd. 
The modest matron, and the blushing maid, 
Forcd from their homes, a melancholy train 
To traverse climes beyond the western main • „o 




Where w,:- Oswego 9prp;;»n ht-r swamps around, 
And Niagaia stuns witi i: i.iid'ring sound ? 

E'en now, perhaps, a:i t;,E,e some pilgrim strays 
Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways • 
Where beasts with m,in li'.ided empire claim, 4.^ 
And the brown Indi.n marks with murd'rous aim ■ 
There, while above the giddy tempest flies. 
And all around distressful yells arise. 
The pensive exile, bejiding with his woe. 
To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, 4,0 

Casts a long look whore England's glories shine, 
Aiid bids his bosom sympathise with mine. 

Vain, very vain, my weary search to find 
That bliss which only centres in the mind : 
Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, 42,, 
To seek a good each government bestows ? 
In every government, though terrors reign. 
Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain. 
How small, of all that human hearts endure. 
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure. 
Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, 4,, 

Our own felicity we make or find : 
With secret courfe, which no loud storms annoy, 
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. 
The lifted axe, t'le agonising wheel, ^3, 

Luke's iron crown, and Damiens' bed of steel. 
To men remote from power but rarely known, 
Leave rsason, faith, and conscience, all our own. 



to sib joshua beynolds 

Dear Sir, 
I can have no expectations in an address of this kind, 
either to add to your reputation, or to establish my own. 5 
You can gain nothing from my admiration, as I am 
ignorant of that art in which you are said to excel ; and 
I may lose much by the severity of your judgment, as 
few have a juster taste in poetry than you. Setting 
interest therefore aside, to which I never paid much 10 
attention, I must be indulged at present in following my 
affections. The only dedication I ever made was to my 
brother, because I loved him better than most other men. 
He is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this Poem to 
you. .5 

Kow far you may be pleased with the versification and 
mere mechanical parts of this attempt, I don't )>retend to 
enquire ; but I know you will object (and indeed several 
of our best and wisest friends concur in the opinion) that 
the depopulation it deplores is no where to be seen, and la 
the disorders it laments are only to be found in the poet's 
own imagination. To this I can scarce make any 
other answer than that I sincerely believe what I have 
written ; that I have taken all possible pains, in my 
country excursions, for these four or five years past, to 35 
be certain of what I allege ; and that all my views and 
en(juiries have led me to believe those miseries real, 
which I here attempt to display. But this is not the 
place to enter into an enquiry, whether the country be 
depopulating, or not ; the discussion would take up 30 
much room, and I should prove myself, at best, an in- 
different politician, to tire the reader with a long preface, 
when I want his unfatigued attention to a long poem. 



In regrettmK the depopulation of the country, I in- 

I expect the shout of modern politicians against me 
For twenty or th.rty yean, past, ¥ has been the fashTon 

LT^„Tous'"'s'uSr 7fe^^^^^ 

ancient on that L'X T/cornurtrthinT^ '° 

irei^Xi:;'^''''^' *" '"'*^'- ''y "''■''•• ^ "^""y vic^ 
Ind^^ m^.H*!?'^ 'k """y '""§<J°""' have been undone. 
tid^ZT^}r^ ^1 P°"^'* ""' °f 'at« °n the other 
and viri«*v^r °"' ,']"*' '"".'^'y f"' *he sake of novelty 4, 
and variety, one would sometimes wish to be in the right 

I am, Dear Sir, 
Your smoere friend, and ardent admirer, 

OuvBB Goldsmith 


SwBBT AuBCBN ! loveliest village of the plain, 
Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain, 
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 
And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd : 
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, j 

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please. 
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green. 
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene ; 
How often have I paus'd on every charm. 
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, lo 

The never-failing brook, the busy mill. 
The decent church that topp'd the neighbouring hill. 
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. 
For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made ; 
How often have I bless'd the coming day, 15 

When toil remitting lent its turn to play. 
And all the village train, from labour free, 
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree ; 
While many a pastime circled in the shade. 
The young contending as the old survey'd ; ao 


And in»ny a gambol frolick'd o'er iiik ground, 
And sleighu of art and feats of strength went round ; 
And still us each repeated pleasuiv tir'd, 
Succeeding sporta the mirthful band inspir'd ; 
The dandng pair that simply sought renown, 15 
By holding out to tire each other down ; 
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, 
While secret laughter titter'd round the pbce ; 
The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, 19 

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove : 
These were thy charms, sweet village ; sporU like these, 
With sweet succession, tought e'en toil to please ; 
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed. 
These were thy charms— But all these charms are fled. 

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, 35 
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; 
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is e-en. 
And desolation saddens all thy green : 
Ono only master grasps the whole domain, 
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain : 40 

No more thy glassy brook reflects the day. 
But chok'd 'vith sedges, works its weedy way. 
Along thy glades, a solitary guest, 
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; 
Amidst thy d<-9ert walks the lapwing flies, « 

And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. 
Su ik are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all. 
And the long grass o'ertops the mould'ring wall ; 
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 
Far, far away, thy children leave the land. ;« 



III fares the land, to ha«fning illx a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : 
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride. 
When once destroy'd, can never be supplied. 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
When every rood of ground maintained its man ; 
For him light labour spread her wholesome store. 
Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more: 60 
His best companions, innocence and health ; 
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 

But (imes are alter'd ; trade's unfeeling train 
Usurp the land and dispossess the swain ; 
Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose, 6j 
Unwieldy wealth, and cumbrous pomp repose ; 
And every want to opulence allied. 
And every pang that folly pays to pride. 
Tliose gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom. 
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, ;o 
Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene, 
Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green ; 
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore. 
And rural mirth and manners are no more. 

Sweet ACBtTEN ! parent of the blissful hour, 75 
Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 
Here as 1 take my solitary rounds. 
Amidst tuy tangling walks, and ruin'd grounds, 
And, many a year elaps'd, return to view 
Wheif once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 


Remembrance wake* with all her bu»y train, li 
SK")lb at my breaat, and turns the paat to pain. 

. \ my wand'ring* round thii world o( care, 
.. .ny grioh— and God ha* given my share— 
i a had hopes my lateit hours to crown, »i 

Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
To husband out life's taper at the close. 
And keep the flame from wsrting by repose. 
1 still had hopes, for pridn attends us still. 
Amidst the swains to show my booklearn'd skill, 90 
Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; 
And, as a 1 are, whom hounds and horns pursue. 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes, my long vexations pass'd, 95 

Hero to return— and die at home at last. 

blest nvii! 
Retreat-^ .'roir: 
How 'niiT'.v ii' 
A yoaiii f 1.. 

Who q'l.l^ 'i • 
And, siii.f 111 

■n»?it friend to life's decline, 
a: , that never must be mine, 
i\iu crowns in shades like these, 
'!i! -.n^h an age of ease; i< 

u'li .. i r're strong temptations try 
;; ,r«i I', combat, learns to fly! 
For him no -aicv "en, born to work and weep. 
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 
No surly porter stands in guilty state 
To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
But on he moves to meet his latter end, 
Angels around befriending Virtue's friend ; 
Bends to the grave with unperceiv'd decay, 
While Resignation gently slopes the way ; 




■"•ir\ HV.WU K 


And, all his prospects bright'ning to the last, 
His Heaven commences ere the world be pass'd ! 

Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close 
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow, 115 
The mingling notes came soften'd from below ; 
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung. 
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young ; 
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool. 
The playful children just let loose from school ; 1 jo 
The watchdog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind. 
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; 
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made. 
But now tha sounds of population fail, 125 

No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale. 
No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, 
For all the bloomy flush of life is fled. 
All but yon widow'd, solitary thing 
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring ; 130 
She, wretched matron, forc'd, in age, for bread. 
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread. 
To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn. 
To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; 
She only left of all the harmless train, 135 

The sad historian of the pensive plain. 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd. 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 140 



A man he waa to all the country dear, 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
Remot« from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had ehang'd, nor wished to change his place ; 
Unpraotis'd he to fawn, or seek for power, 14J 

By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour ; 
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
More skill'd to raise the wretched than to rise. 
His house was known to all the vagrant train, 
He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain ; 
The long-remember'd beggar was his guest, 15 r 

Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 155 

Sat by his fire! and talk'd the night away ; 
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. 
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man leam'd to glow. 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 160 

Careless their merits, or their faults to scan. 
His pity gave ere charity began. 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride. 
And e'en his failings lean'd to Virtue's side ; 
But in his duty prompt at every call, 165 

He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all. 
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies. 
He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
AUur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. 170 



Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd. 
The re 'erend champion stood. At his control, 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise. 176 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace. 
His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway. 
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. 180 
The service pass'd, around the pious man, 
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
Even children foUow'd with endearing wile. 
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile. 
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd, 185 
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd ; 
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given. 
But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. 
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, 189 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm. 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread. 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
With blossom'd furze unproiitably gay. 
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, 195 

The village master taught his little school ; 
A man severe he was, and stem to view ; 
I knew him well, and every truant knew ; 
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace 
The day's disasters in his morning face ; joo 



Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee, 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
Full well the busy ./hisper, circling round, 
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd ; 
Yet he was kind ; or if severe in aught, J05 

The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 
The village all declar'd how much he knew ; 
'Twas certain he could write, and cypher too ; 
Lands he could measure, terras and tides presage, 
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge. no 
In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill, 
For e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue still ; 
While words of learned length and thund'ring sound 
Amazed the gazing rustics rang'd around. 
And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew, 315 
That one small head could carry all he knew. 

But past is all his fame. The very spot 
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. 
Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, J19 
Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye. 
Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir'd. 
Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd, 
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound. 
And news much older than their ale went round. 
Imagination fondly stoops to trace 225 

The parlour splendours of that festive place ; 
The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor. 
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ; 
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 330 



The pictures plac'd for ornament and use. 
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day, 
With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay ; 
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 235 
Rang'd o'l " the chimney, gliaten'd in a row. 

Vain, transitory splendours ! Could not all 
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall I 
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart 
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart ; 
Thither no more the peasant shall repair 
To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale. 
No more the wood-man's ballad shall prevail ; 
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear ; 
The host himself no longer shall be found 
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ; 
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be press'd. 
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 



Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain. 
These simple blessings of the lowly train ; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart. 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; 
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255 
The soul adopts and owns their first-born sway ; 
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd : 
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade. 
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, 360 



In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy. 

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey 
The rich man's joys increase, the pool's decay, iM 
'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand 
Between a splendid and • happy land. 
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore. 
And shouting Folly hails them fron\ her shore , 270 
Hoards, e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, 
And rich men flock from all the world around. 
Vet count our gains. This wealth is but a name 
That leaves our useful products still the same. 
Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 275 
Takes up a spaCe that many poor supplied ; 
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds. 
Space fur his horses, equipage, and hounds ; 
The roke that wraps his limbs in silken sloth 
Has robb'd the neighbouring fields of half their growth. 
His seat, where solitary sports are seen, aSi 

Indignant spurns the cottage from the green ; 
Around the world each needful product flies, 
For all the luxuries the world supplies : 
While thus the land adorn'd for pleasure, all 183 
In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. 

As some fair female unadom'd and plain. 
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign. 
Slights every borrow'd charm that dress supplies, 
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes : 290 



But when those charms are pass'd, for charms are frail, 

When time advances, and wlien lovers fail, 

She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, 

^n all the glaring impotence of dress. 

Thus fares the land, by lujtury betray'd, 

In nature's simplest charms at first array'd ; 

But verging to decline, its splendours rise. 

Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise ; 

While scourg'd by famine from the smiling land, 

The mournful peasant leads his humble band ; 

And while he sinks, without one arm to save, 

The country blooms -* garden, and a grave. 

Where then, «K > whew, shall poverty reside. 
To 'scap* the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd. 
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade! 
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide. 
And e'en the hare-worn common is denied. 


If to the city sped— What waits him there ? 
To see profusion that he must not share ; 
To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd 
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; 
To see those joys the sons of pleasure know 
Extorted from his fellow creatu»e's woe. 
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade. 
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; 
Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display. 
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way . 
The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign 
Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train ; 3,0 





Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing aquaiv, 
The rattling chariots clanh, the torches glare. 
Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy I 
Sure these denote one universal joy ! 
Are these thy serious thoughu ?— Ah, turn thine eyes 
Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies. .^i6 
She once, perhaps, in village plenty bless'd, 
Has wept at tales of innocence distress'd ; 
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, 
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; 330 
Now lost to all ; her friends, her virtue fled. 
Near her betr..yer'8 door she lays her head, 
And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower. 
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour. 
When idly first, ambitious of the town, iSf, 

She left her w^ieel and robes of country brown. 

Do thine, sweet Acbukn, thine, the loveliest train. 
Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? 
E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led. 
At proud men's doors they ask a little bread ! 34° 

Ah, no. To distant climt-s, a dreary scene. 
Where half the convex world intrudes between. 
Through torrid tram .< it!- fainting steps they go. 
Where wild Alt>::n;. iin.nnun to their woe. 
Far different thfu fion \\\ ihst charn>"d before, 345 
The various terrors n( tl it horrid shore ; 
Those blaiing suns I'lat dr:'. n .!.iwiiward ray, 
And fiercely shed int' U rablf i. . , 
Those matted woods where Uliila iorgei to sing, 
But silent bats in dniws,, olunti-rs cling , .iS" 

THf IiKl-AKirilt: 


Those poi»'nou8 fields with rank luxuriance crown'd, 
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; 
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; 
Where crouching tigers wait their Impless prey, jj, 
And savage men more murtl'rous still than they i 
While oft iti whirls the mad tornado flies. 
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. 
Far different these from every former scene, 
Tlie cooling hrook, the grassy-vested green, 360 

The breezy covert of the warbling grove. 
That only slielter'd thefts of harmless love. 

Good heaven ! what sorrows gloom'd that parting 
That call'd them from their native walks away ; 
When the poor exiles, every pleasure paas'd, ,,65 
Hung round their bowers, and fondly Inok'd their last, 
And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain 
For seats like these beyond the western main ; 
And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep, 
Retum'd and wept, and still return'd to weep. .170 
The good old sire, the first prepar'd to go 
To newfound worlds, and wept for others' woe ; 
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave. 
He only wish'd for worlds beyond the Rrave. 
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, ,7, 

The fond companion of his helpless years. 
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms. 
And left a lover's for a father's arms. 
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes. 
And bless'd the cot where every pleasure ,,80 





1653 Eoft Main Street 

Rochosier. New York 1*609 USA 

(7)6) *82 - 0.JOO - Phone 

(716) 28B- 5989 -Fox 



And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear, 
And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear ; 
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 
In all the silent manliness of grief. 

O Luxury ! thou curs'd by Heaven's decree, 385 
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee ! 
How do thy potions, with insidious joy 
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! 
Kingdoms, by thee, to sickly greatness grown, 
Boast of a florid vigour not their own ; 39° 

At every draught more large and Urge they grow, 
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe ; 
Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, 
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 

E'en now the devastation is begun, 395 

And half the business of destruction done ; 
E'en now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand, 
I see the rural virtues leave the land : 
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail. 
That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale. 
Downward they move, a melancholy band, 
Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. 
Contented toil, and hospitable care. 
And kind connubial tenderness, are there ; 
And piety, with wishes plac'd above. 
And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid. 
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; 
Unfit in these degenerate times of shame, 
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 





Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, 
My shame in crowds, my soHtary pride ; 
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe. 
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ; 
Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, 415 

Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! 
Farewell, and Oh ! where'er thy voice be tried, 
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, 
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow, 
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 430 

Still let thy voice, prevailing over time. 
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime ; 
Aid slighted truth ; with thy persuasive strain 
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain ; 
Teach him, that states of native strength possess'd, 
Though very poor, may still be very bless'd ; 416 
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, 
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away ; 
While self-dependent power can time defy, 
As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 430 



''^ZnZ^.?''''''''''^ ^«"'''E^' AND 

Pbeserved by Machobius. 
What! no way left to .hun tl.' inglorious stage, 
And save from infamy my sinlting age ' 
Scarce half alive, oppress'd with many a year 
What in the name of dotage drives me here '' 
A time there was, when glory was n,y guide, 
Nor force nor fraud eould turn my steps aside ; ' 
Unawd by pow'r, and unappall'd by fear, honest thrift I held my honour dear ■ 
But this vile hour disperses all my store 
And all my hoard of honour is no more.' 
For an ! too partial to my life's decline, 
Caesar persuades, submission must be mine ; 
Him I obey, whom heaven itself obeys. 
Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please 
Here then at once, 1 welcome every shame. 
And cancel at threescore a life of fame ; ' ° 

No more my titles shall my children tell. 
The old buffoon will fit my name as well ; 
This day beyond its term my fate extends. 
For life is ended when our honour ends. ^^ 





{Imitated from the Spanish.) 

SuBE 'twas by Providence design'd, 
Rather in pity, than in hate, 

That he should be, like Cupid, blind, 
To save him from Narcissus' fate. 




Say, cruel Iris, pretty rake, 

Dear mercenary beauty, 
What annual offering shall I make, 

Expressive of my duty ? 

My heart, a victim to thine eyes, 

Should I at once deliver. 
Say, would the angry fair one prize 

The gift, who slights the giver ? 
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy. 

My rivals give— and let 'em ; 
M gems, or gold, impart a joy, 

I'll give them— when I get 'em. 

I'U give— but not the full-blown rose. 
Or rose-bud more in fashion ; 

Such short-liv'd offerings but disclose 
A transitory passion. 

I'll give thee something yet unpaid. 

Not less sincere, than civil : 
I'll give thee— Ah ! too charming maid, 

I'll give thee— To the devil. 




LouiciANS have but ill defin'd 

As rational, tue iiunian kind ; 

Reason, tliey say, belongs to man. 

But let them prove it if they can. 

Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius, 

By ratiocinations sptcious. 

Have strove to prove with great precision, 

With definition and division. 

Homo est ratione praedilum, — 

But for my soul I cannot credit 'em ; 

And must in spite of them maintain, 

That man and al' his ways are vain ; 

And that this boasted lord of nature 

Is both a weak and erring creature ; 

That instinct is a surer guide 

Than reason-boasting mortals' pride ; 

And that brute beasts are far before 'em, 

Deu3 est anima brutorum. 

Who ever knew an honest brute 

At law his neighbour prosecute. 

Bring action for assault and Li.ittery, 

Or friend beguile with lies and flattery ? 

O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd, 

No politics turb their mind ; 

They eat their meals, and take their eiort. 

Nor know who 's in or out at court ; 



They tie* pr to tl > levw go 
To treat an dearest friend, a »r* ; 
They never importune his grnre, 
Nor ever cringe to men in place ; 
Nor undertake a dirty job, 
Nor draw the quill to write for B— b. 
Fraught with invective they ne'er p,o 
To folks at Pater-Noster.Row ; 
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-mastera. 
No pick-pockets, or poetasters. 
Are known to honest quadrupeds ; 
No single brute his .ellow leads. 
Brutes never meet in bloody fray. 
Nor cut each others' throats, for pay. 
Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape 
Comes nearest us in human shape ; 
Like man he imitRves each fashion. 
And malice is his ruling passion 
But both in malice pnO grimaces 
A courtier any ape surpasses. 
Behold him humbly cringing wait 
Upon a minister of state ; 
View him soon after to ir.feriors, 
Aping the conduct of superiors ; 
He proiiises with equal air. 
And to perform takes equal care. 
He in his turn finds imitators ; 
At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters. 
Their master's manners still contract. 
And footmen, lords and dukes can act. 
Thus at the court both great and .small 
Behave alike— for all ape all. 






WllPlNO, murmuring, complaining, 

Lost to every gay delight ; 
Myra, too sincere for feigning, 

Fears th' approaching bridal night. 

Yet, why impair thy bright perf' ion ? 

Or dim thy beauty with a tear i 
Had MvRA followed my direction. 

She long had wanted cause of fear. 



Amidst the clamour of exulting joys, 

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, 

Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, 
And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. 

Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe, 5 
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear ; 

Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow, 
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. 

Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled. 
And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes : le 

Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead — 
Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise ! 



Good people all, with one accord, 

Lament in' Mttdani Blaize, 
Who nev.- ^ ntcd o good woiti- 
From t.. uHio spoke hrr praine. 
The needy seldom powt'd her door, , 

And olway« found lier kind ; 
She freely lent to all the poor,- 

Who If/t a pledge behind. 
She strove the neighbourhood to please. 

With manners wond'rous winning, ,o 

And never follow'd wicked ways,— 

Unleas when she was sinning. 
At church, in silks and satins new, 

With hoop of monstrous size. 
She never slumber'd in her i)ew,— 

But when site shut her eyes. 
Her love was sought, I do aver, 

By twenty beaux and more ; 
The king liimself has follow'd her,— 

When she has walk'd before. 
But now her wealth and finery fled, 

Her hangers-on cut short all ; 
The doctors found, when she was dead,— 

Her last disorder mortal. 
Let us lament, in sorrow sore, ,, 

For Kent-atreet well may say. 
That had she liv'd a twelve-month more.- 
She had not died to-day. 




Where the Red Lion flaring o'er the way. 
Invites each passing stranger that can pay ; 
Where Calvert's butt, and Parsons' black champagne, 
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane ; 
There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, 5 

The Muse found Soroggen stretch'd beneath a rug ; 
A window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, 
That dimly show'd the state in which he lay ; 
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread ; 
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread : 10 
The royal game of goose was there in view. 
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; 
The seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place, 
And brave prince William show'd his lamp-black face : 
The morn was cold, he views with keen desire 15 
The rusty grate unconscious of a fire; 
With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor'd. 
And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board ; 
A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, 
A cap by night — a stocking all the day ! 20 



Fob you, bright fair, the nine address their lays. 
And tune my feeble voice to sing thy praise. 
The heartfelt power of every charm divine. 
Who can withstand their all-commanding shine ? 
See how she moves along with every grace, 5 

While soul-brought tears steal down each shining face. 
She speaks ! 'tis rapture all, and nameless bliss, 
Ye gods ! what transport e'er compared to this. 
As when in Paphian groves the Queen of Love 
With fond complaint addressed the listening Jove, 10 
'Twas joy, and endless blisses all around. 
And rocks forgot their hardness at the sound. 
Then first, at last even Jove was taken in. 
And felt her charms, without disguise, within. 




Yb Muses, pour the pitying tear 

For Pollio snatch'd away ; 
O ! had he hv'd another year !— 

He had not died to-day. 

O ! were he born to bless mankind, i 

In virtuous times of yore. 
Heroes themselves had fallen behind ! — 

Whene'er he went before. 

How sad the groves and plains appear. 
And sympathetic sheep ; ,o 

Even pitying hills would drop a tear !— 
// hilla could learn to weep. 

His bounty in exalted strain 

Each bard might well display ; 
Since none implor'd relief in vain ! — 15 

That went rdiev'd away. 

And hark ! I hear the tuneful throng 

His obsequies forbid. 
He still shall live, shall live as long ! 

As ever dead man did. ,„ 




HU^ hl^''-^^" """J'"' «» '■OP"' o' bail. 
His pen he prostitutes f avoid a ga^. 

Lbt not the Awn^j, Bavius* angiy stroke 
Awake resentment, or your rage provoke • 
But pitying his distress, let virtue shine 
And giving each your bounty, let him dine 
For thus retain'd, as learned counsel can 
Each case, however bad, he'll new japan'- 
And by a quick transition, plainly show ' 
Twas no defeat of yours, but pociet low, 
That caused his putrid kennel to o'erflow 


TO G. C. AND R. L 

■TWA8 you, or I, or he, or all together 

•Twas one, both, three of them, they know not 

whether ; 
This, I believe, between us great or small. 
You, I, he, wrote it not-'twas Churchill's aU. 

In all my Enna's beauties blest. 

Amidst profusion still I pine ; 
For hough she gives me up her breast. 

Its panting tenant is not mine. 





Secluded from domestic strife, 

Jack Book-worm led a college life; 

A fellowship at twenty-five 

Made him the happiest mar alive; 

He drank his glass and orack'd his joke, 

And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke. 

Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care. 
Could any accident impair ? 
Could Cupid's shaft at length trar.ifix 
Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ? i 

O had the archer ne'er come down 
To ravage in a country town ! 
Or Flavia been content to stop 
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop. 
O had her eyes forgot to blaze ! i 

Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze. 

O ! But let exclamation cease. 

Her presence banish'd all his peace. 

So with decorum all things carried ; i 

Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then wis — married. 

Need we expose to vulgar sight 
The raptures of the bridal night ? 
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground. 
Or draw the curtains clos'd around ? 
Let it suffice, that each had charms ; i 

He clasp'd a goddess in his arms ; 


And, though she felt his usage rough, 
Yet in a man 'twas well enough. 

The honey-moon like lightning flew. 
The second brought its transports too. 30 

A third, a fourth, were not amiss. 
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss : 
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away. 
Jack found his goddess made of clay ; 
Found half the charms that deck'd her face 35 

Arose from powder, shreds, or lace ; 
But still the worst remain'd behind, 
That very face had robb'd her mind. 

Skill'd in no other arts was she. 
But dressing, patching, repartee ; 
And, just as humour rose or fell, 
By turns a slattern or a belle : 
'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace. 
Half naked at a ball or race ; 
But when at home, at board or bed, 
Five greasy nightcaps wrapp'd her head. 
Could so much beauty condescend 
To be a dull dom' • friend '. 
Could any curtain- tures bring 
To decency so fine a thing ? 
In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting ; 
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting. 
Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy 
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levy ; 
The 'squire and captain took their stations. 
And twenty other near relations; 






Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke 

A sigh in suffocating smoke ; 

MThile all their hours were pass'd between 

Insulting repartee or spleen. 60 

Thus as her faults each day were known, 
He thinks her features coarser giown ; 
He fancies every vice she shows. 
Or thins her lip, or points her nose : 
Whenever rage or envy rise, 65 

How wide her moulh, how wild her eyes ! 
He knows not how, but so it is, 
Her face is grown a knowing phiz ; 
And, though her foos are wond'r'-is civil. 
He thinks her ugly as the devil. 70 

Now, to perplex the ravell'd noose, 
As each a different way pursues. 
While sullen or loquacious strife, 
Promis'd to hold them on for life. 
That dire disease, whose ruthless power 75 

Withers ths beauty's transient flower : 
Lo ! the small-pox, whose horrid glare 
Levell'd its terrors at the fair ; 
And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace. 
Left but the remnant of a face. 80 

The glass, grown hateful to her sight, 
Reflected now a perfect fright : 
Each former art she vainly tries 
To bring back lustre to her eyes. 
In vain she tries her paste and creams. Sj 

To smooth her skin, or hide its seams ; 


Her country beaux and city cousins, 
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens : 
The 'squire himself was seen to yield. 
And e'en the captain quit the field. 

Poor Madam, now condemn'd to hack 
The rest of life with anxious Jack, 
Perceiving others fairly flown, 
Attempted pleasing him alone. 
Jack soon was dazzl'd to behold 
Her present face surpass the olj ; 
With modesty her cheeks are dy'd, 
Humility displaces pride ; 
For tawdry finery is seen 
A person ever neatly clean : 
No more presuming on her sway. 
She learns good-nature every day ; 
Serenely gay, and strict in duty, 
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty. 








LCNG had I nought in vain to find 
A lilceneBH for the acribbling kind ; 
The modern Bcribbling kind, who write 
In wit, and neniie, and nature's lipite : 
Till reading, I forget what day on, 
A chapter out of Tooke's Pantheon, 
I think I met with something there, 
To suit my purpose to a hair ; 
But let us not proceed too furious, 
First plesie to turn to god Mercurius ; 
You'll find him pictur'd at full length 
In book the second, page the tenth : 
The stress of all my proofs on him I lay. 
And now proceed we to our simile. 

Imprimis, pray observe his hat. 
Wings upon either side — mark that. 
Well ! what is it from thence we gather '. 
Why these denote a brain of feather. 
A brain of feather ! very right. 
With wit that 's flighty, learning light ; 
Such as to modern bard 's decreed : 
A just comparison, — proceed. 

In the next place, his feet peruse. 
Wings grow again from both his shoes ; 
Design'd, no doubt, their part to bear. 
And waft his godship through the air ; 


And here my aimile unites, 
For in a modern poet'B flights, 
I'm sure it may be justly said, 
His feet are useful as his head. 

Lastly, vouchsafe f observe his hand, 
Filled with a snake-encirel'd wand; 
By classic authors term'd caduceus. 
And highly fam'd for several uses. 
To wit— most woRd'-ousIy endu'd, 
No poppy water half so -ood ; 
For let folks only get a to h, 
Its soporific virtue's such, 
Though ne'er so much awako before, 
That quickly they begin to snore. 
Add too, what certain writers tell. 
With this he drives men's souls to ) „U. 

Now to apply, begin we then ; 
His wand 's a modern author's pen ; 
The serpents round about it twin'd 
Denote him of the reptile kind ; 
Denote the rage with which he writes, 
His frothy slaver, venom'd bites ; 
An equal semblance still to keep, 
Alike too both conduce to sleep. 
Tliis diff'rence only, as the god 
Drove souls ti Tart'rus with his rod, 
With his goosequill the scribbling elf. 
Instead of others, damns himself. 

And here my siujiic almost tript, 
Vet grant a word by way of postscript. 








Moreover, Merc'ry had a failing : 

Well ! what of that ? out with it— stealing ; 

In which all modern barda agree, 

Being each as great a thief a» he : *<> 

But ev'n this deity'" existence 

Shall lend my ^ uile assistance. 

Our modem bards ! why what a pox 

Are they but senseless stones and blocks ? 

T. s'['OTllAhl> 



' TUKN, tivnt\e hermit of the dale, 

And guide my lonely way, 
To where yon Uper checr» the vale 
With hoDpitable ray. 

' For hero, forlorn and lout I tread, 

With fainting stepn and slow ; 
Where wildn immeauurably Hpread, 
Seem length'ning an I go.' 

' Forbear, my Hon,' the hermit cries, 
' To tempt the dangerous gloom ; 
For yonder faithleiw phantom flies 
To lure thee to thy doom. 

'Here to the houseless child of want 

My door is open still ; 
And though my portion is but scant, 
I give it with good will. 

' Then turn to-night, and freely share 

Whate'er my cell bestows ; 
My rushy couch, and frugal fare. 
My blessing and repose. 

' No flocks that range the valley free 

To slaughter I condemn : 
Taught by thai power that pities nie, 
I learn to pity them. 



' But from the mountain'B grassy side 

A guiltless feast I bring ; 
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, 
And water from the spring. 

' Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forgo ; 

All earth-born cares are wrong : 
Man wants but little here below. 
Nor wants that little long.' 

Soft as the dew from heav'n descends. 

His gentle accents fell : 
The modest stranger lowly bends. 

And follows to the cell. 

Far in a wilderness obscure 

The lonely mansion lay ; 
A refuge to the neighbouring poor 

And strangers led astray. 

No stores beneath its humble thatch 

Requir'd a master's care ; 
The wicket, opening with a latch, 

Receiv'd the harmless pair. 

And now, when busy crowds retire 

To take their evening rest, 
The hermit trimm'd his httle fire. 

And cheer'd his pensive guest : 

And spread his vegetable store. 
And gaily press'd, and smil'd ; 

And, skill'd in legendary lore. 
The lingering hours beguii'd. 




Around in sympathetic mirth 
Its tricks the kitten tries ; 

The cricket chirrups in the hearth ; 
The crackling faggot iJies. 

But nothing could a charm impart 
To soothe the stranger's woe ; 

For grief was heavy at his heart, 
And t«ars began to flow. 

His rising cares the hermit spied, 
With answ'ring care oppress'd ; 
' And whence, unhappy youth,' he cried, 
' The sorrows of thy breast ? 

'From better habitations spurn'd, 

Reluctant dost thou rove ; 
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, 
Or unregarded love ? 

' Alas ! the joys that fortune brings 

Are trifling, and decay ; 
And those who prize the paltry things. 
More trifling still than they. 

' And what is friendship but a name, 

A charm that lulls to sleep ; 
A shade that follows wealth or fame, 
But leaves the wretch to weep ? 

' And love is still an emptier sound. 

The modern fair one's jest : 
On earth unseen, or only found 
To warm the turtle's nest. 








' For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, 

And spurn the sex,' he said : 
But, while he spoke, a rising blush 
His love-lorn guest betray'd. 

Surpris'd, he sees new beauties rise, 8; 

Swift mantling to the view ; 
Like colours o'er the morning skies, 

As bright, as transient too. 

The bashful look, the rising breast. 

Alternate spread alarms : 90 
T' lovely stranger stands confess'd 

A maid in all her charms. 

' And, ah ! forgive a stranger rude, 

A wretch forlorn,' she cried ; 
' Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude 95 

Where heaven and you reside. 

' But let a maid thy pity share. 

Whom love has taught to stray ; 
Who seeks for rest, but finds despair 
Companion of her way. 100 

' My father liv'd beside the Tyne, 

A wealthy lord was he ; 
Anu all his wealth was mark'd as mine. 
He had but only me. 

' To win me from his tender arms 105 
Unnumber'd suitors came ; 
Who prais'd me for imputed charms. 
And felt or fcign'd a flame. 


Each hour a mercenary crowd 
With richest proffers strove : 

Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd, 
But never talk'd of love. 

* In humble, simplest habit clad. 
No wealth nor power had he ; 
Wisdom and worth were all he had, 
But these were all to me. 

'And when beside me in the dale 

He caroll'd lays of love ; 
His breath lent fragrance to the gale. 
And music to the grove. 

' The blossom opening to the day, 

The dews of heaven refin'd, 
Could nought of purity display. 
To emulate his mind. 

' The dew, the blossom on the tree. 

With charms inconstant shine ; 
Their charms were his, but woe to me ! 
Their constancy was mine. 

' For still I tried each fickle art. 

Importunate and vain : 
And while his passion touch'd my heart, 
I triumph'd in his pain. 

' Till quite dejected with my scorn, 

He left me to my pride ; 
And sought a solitude forlorn. 

In secret, where he died. 






' But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, 

And well my life shall pay ; 
I'll seek the solitude he sought. 
And stretch me where he lay. 

' And there forlorn, despairing, hid, 

I'll lay me down and die ; 
'Twas so for me that Edwin did, 
And so for him will I.' 

' Forbid it, heaven ! ' the hermit cried, 

.-.nd clasp'd her to his breast : 
The wondering fair one turn'd to chide, 
'Twas Edwin's self that prest. 

'Turn, Angelina, dear, 

My charmer, tirr. to see 
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, 

Restor'd to love and thee. 

' Thus let me hold thee to my heart. 

And ev'ry care resign ; 
And shall we never, never part, 
My life— my all that 's mine ? 

' No, never from this hour to part. 

We'll live and love so true ; 
The sigh that rends thy constant heart 
Shall break thy Edwin's too.' 





Good people all, of every sort, 

Give ear unto my song ; 
And if you find it wond'rous short, 

It cannot hold you long. 

In Islington there was a man. 

Of whom the world might say, ' 

That still a godly race he ran. 

Whene'er he went to pray. 

A kind and gentle heart he had. 

To comfort friends and foes ; 
The naked every day he clad, ' 

When he put on his clothes. 

And in that town a dog was found. 

As many dogs there be, 
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, ,5 

And curs of low degree. 

This dog and man at first were friends ; 

But when a pique be^an. 
The dog, to gain some private ends. 

Went mad and bit the man. „ 

Around from all the neighbouring streets 

The wond'ring neighbours ran, 
And swore the dog had lost his wits. 

To bite so good a man. 



The wound it seem'd both sore and sad 25 

To every Christian eye ; 
And wiiile they swore the dog was mad. 

They swore the man would die. 

Bat soon a wonder came to light, 
That show'd the rogues they lied : 30 

The man recover'd of the bite, 
The dog it was that died. 






When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
And finds too late that men betray, 

What charm can soothe her melancholy. 
What art can wash her guilt away ? 

The only art her guilt to cover, 
To hide her shame from every eye. 

To give repentance to her lover. 
And wring his bosom, is— to die. 




As puffing quacks gome caitiflf wretch procure 

To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure ; 

Thus on the stage, our play-wrights still depend 

For Epilogues and Prologues on some friend. 

Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, « 

And make full many a bitter pill go down. 

Conscious of this, our bard has gone about. 

And teas'd each rhyming f.iend to help him out. 

' An Epilogue— things can't go on without it ; 

It could not fail, would you but set about it.' i< 

' Young man,' cries one— a bard laid up in clover— 

' Alas, young man, my writing days are over ; 

Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw ; not I : 

Your brother Doctor there, perhaps, may try.' 

' What I ? dear Sir,' the Doctor interposes ; i 

' What, plant ray thistle, Sir, among his roses ! 

No no ; I've other contests to maintain ; 

To-night I head our troops at Warwick Lane r 

Go, ask your manager.' " Who, me ? Your pardon ; 

Those things are not our forte at Covent Garden.' a 

Our Author's friends, thus plao'd at happy distance, 

Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. 

As some unhappy wight, at some new play. 

At the Pit door stands elbowing a way. 

While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug, : 

He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug ; 


HU Bimp'ring friends, with pleasure in tiicir cycH, 
Sink an he sinks, and as he rises rise ; 
He nods, they nod ; he cringes, they grimace ; 
But not a soul will budge to give him place. 30 

Smce then, unhelp'd, our bard must now conform 
' To 'bide the pelting of this pitiless storm '— 
Blame where you must, be candid where you can ; 
And be each critic th<' Good Nalur'd Man. 




What ! five long acta— and all to make an wiwr ! 
Our authoress sure has wanted an adviser. 
Had she consulted me, she should have made 
Her moral play a spending masquerade ; 
Warm'd up each bustling scene, and in her rage 5 
Have empt><!d all the green-room on the stage. 
My life on't, *his had kept her play 'rom sinking ; 
Have pleas'd our eyes, and sav'd the pain of thinking. 
Well ! since she thus has shown her want of skill, 
What if I give a masquerade ? — I will. 10 

But how ? ay, there 's the rub ! (po»«»i()r)— I've got my 

ore : 
The world's a masquerade ! the maskers, you, you, you. 

{To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery.) 

, what a group the motley scene discloses ! 

False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses ! 
Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em, i; 
Patriots, in party-coloured suits, that ride 'em. 
There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more 
To raise .1 flame in Cupids of threescore. 
These in their turn, with appetites as keen, 
Deserting fifty, fasten on fifteen, 30 

Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon. 
Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman : 
The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure. 
And tries to kill, ere she 's got power to cure. 
Thus 'tis with all — their chief and constant care s; 
Is to seem everything but v ' 'jt they are. 


Yon broad, bold, angry npark, 1 fix mv vye on, 
Who Deems to have robb'd hin vizor from the lion ; 
Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade,' 
Looking, as who should say, D ! who's afraid ('30 


Otrip but his vizor off, and sure I am 

You'll find his lionship a very lamb. 

Yon politician, famous in debate. 

Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state ; 

Yet, when he deigns his real shape t' assume. 

He turns old woman, and bestrides a broom. 

Yon patriot, too, who presses on your sight. 

And seems to every gazer all in white. 

If with a bribe his candour you attack. 

He bows, turns round, and whip-the man 's a black ! 40 

Yon critic, too— but whither do I run ? 

If I proceed, our bard will be undone! 

Well then a truce, since she requests it too : 

Do you spare her, and I'll for once spare you. 





In these bold times, when Learning's sons explore 
The distant climate and the savage shore ; 
When wise Astronomers to India steer, 
And quit for Venus, many a brighter here ; 
While Botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling, s 
Forsake the fair, and patiently— go simpling ; 
When every bosom swells with wond'rous scenes. 
Priests, cannibals, and hoity-toity queens i 
Our bard into the general spirit enters. 
And fits his little frigate for adventures : lo 

With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden, 
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading- 
Yet ere he lands he 'as ordered me before, 
To make an observation on the shore. 
Where are we driven ? our reck'ning sure is lost ! i£ 
This seems a barren and a dangerous coast. 

what a sultry climate am I under ! 

Yon ill foreboding cloud seems big with thunder. 

{Upper Gallery.) 
There Mangroves spread,and larger than I've seen 'em— 

Here trees of stately size — and turtles in 'em— jo 


Here ill-condition'd oranges abound 

And apples (tote* up one and tastes it), bitter apples 
strew the ground. 



The pUce ia uninhabited, I (ear ! 
I heard a hiwing— there are aerpents here ! 
there the natives are— a dreadfil race ! 
The men have tailx, the womrn paint the face ! 
No doubt they're aU barbariann.— YeH, 'ti» »o, 
I'll try to make palaver with them though ; 

{Making signs.) 
Tib best, however, keeping at a diiitance. 
Good Savages, our CapUin crave* aasiHUnce ; 30 

Our Hhip -B well Btor'd ;-in yonder creek we've laid her ; 
His honour is no mercenary trader; 
This is his first adventure ; lend him aid, 
Or you may chance to spoU a thriving trade. 
His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far, a 
Equally fit for gallantry and war. 
What ! no reply to promises so ample ? 
I'd best step back— and order up a sample. 







Arise, ye sons of worth, arise. 

And waken every note of woe ; 
When trutli and virtue reach the skies, 

'Tis ours to weep the want below ! 


When truth and virtue, &c. 5 


The praise attending pomp and power, 

The incense given to kings. 
Are but the trappings of an hour — 
Mere transitory things ! 
The base bestow them: but the good agree lo 
To spurn the venal gifts as flattery. 

But when to pomp and power are join'd 
An equal dignity of mind- 
When titles are the smallest claim — 

When wealth and rank and noble blood, i.s 

But aid the power of doing good — 
Then all their trophies last ; and flattery turns to 
Bless'd spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom 
Shall spread and flourish from the tomb. 

How hast thou left mankind for heaven ! lo 
Even now reproach and faction mourn, 


And, wondering how their rage was borne, 

Request to be forgiven. 
Alas ! they never had thy hate : 
Unmov'd in conscious rectitude, 
Thy towering mind self-centred stood. 
Nor wanted man's opinion to be great.' 
In vain, to charm thy ravish'd sight, 

A thousand gifts would fortune send ; 
In vain, to drive thee from the right, 
A thousand sorrows urg'd thy end ■ 
Like some well-fashion'd arch thy patience stood. 
And purchas'd strength from its increasing load 
Pam met thee like a friend that set thee free • 
Affliction still is virtue's opportunity ! 
Virtue, on herself relying, 

Ev'ry passion hush'd to rest. 
Loses ev'ry pain of dying 

In the hopes of being blest. 
Ev'ry added pang she suffers 

Some increasing good bestows, 
Ev'ry shock that malice offers 
Only rocks her to repose. 


Virtue, on herself relying, 

Ev'ry passion hush'd to rest. 
Loses ev'ry pain of dying 

In the hopes of being blest. 
Ev'ry added pang she suffers 

Some increasing good bestows, 
Ev'ry shock that malice offers. 

Only rocks her to repose. 










Yet, ah ! what terrors frowned upon her fate — 

Death, with its formidable band, 

Fever and pain and pale consumptive care, 

Determin'd took their stand: 56 

Nor did the cruel ravagers design 

To finish all their efforts at a blow ; 

But, mischievously slow. 

They robb'd the relic and defao'd the shrine. 

With unavailing grief, 60 

Despairing of relief. 

Her weeping children round 

Beheld each hour 

Death's growing power. 

And trembled as he frown'd. 65 

As helpless friends who view i i hore 

The labouring ship, and hear l. .apest roar, 

While winds and waves their wishes cross — 

They stood, while hope and comfort fail. 

Not to assist, but to bewail 70 

The inevitable loss. 

Relentless tyrant, at thy call 

How do the good, the virtuous fall ! 

Truth, beauty, worth, and all that most engage. 

But wake thy vengeance and provoke thy rage. 75 


When vice my dart and scythe supply, 

How great a king of terrors I ! 

If folly, fraud, your hearts engage, 

Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage 1 

FaU, round me fall, ye little things, 
Ye statesmen, warriors, poets, kings ; 
If virtue fail her counsel sage. 
Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage ! 


Yet let that wisdom, urged by her example. 

Teach us to estimate what all must suffer • 

Let us prize death as the best gift of natu're- 

As a safe inn, where weary travellers. 

When they have journeyed through a world of cares 

May put off life and be at rest for ever 

Groans, weeping friends, indeed, and gloomy sables 

May oft distract us with their sad solemnity: '„, 

The preparation is the executioner. 

Death, when unmasked, shows me a friendly face. 

And IS a terror only at a distance ; 

For as the line of life conducts me on ,, 

To Death's great court, the prospect seems more fair 

'Tis Nature's kind retreat, that's always open 

To take us in when we have drained the cup 

Of life, or worn our days to wretchedness. 

In that secure, serene retreat, ,^ 

Where all the humble, all the great, 

Promiscuously recline ; 
Where wildly huddled to the eye, 
The beggar's pouch and prince's purple lie, 
May every bliss be thine. ' ,oj 

And ah ! bless'd spirit, wheresoe'er thy flight. 
Through rolling worlds, or fields of liquid light. 
May cherubs welcome their expected guest- 
May saints with songs receive thee to their rest- 




May peace that claimed while here thy warmest love, 
May blissful endless peace be thine above ! 1 1 1 


Lovely, lasting Peace below, 

Comforter of every woe, 

Heav'nly born, and bred on high. 

To crown the favourites of the sky — 115 

Lovely, lasting Peace, appear; 

This world itself, if thou art here. 

Is once agttii with Eden blest. 

And man contains it in his breast. 


Our vows are heard ! Long, long to mortal eyes. 
Her soul was fitting to its kindred skies: 121 

Celestial-like her bounty fell. 
Where modest want and patient sorrow dwell ; 
Want pass'd for merit at her door, 

Unseen the modest were supplied, 125 

Her constant pity fed the poor — 

Then only poor, indeed, the day she died. 
And oh ! for this ! while sculpture decks thy shrine, 

And art exhausts profusion round. 
The tribute of a tear be mine, 130 

A simple song, a sigh profound. 
There Faith shall come, a pilgrim gray. 
To bless the tomb that wraps thy clay ; 
And calm Religion shall repair 
To dwell a weeping hermit there. 135 

Truth, "nrtitiide, and Friendship shall agree 
To blend their virtues while they think of thee. 



Let us, let all che world agree, 
To profit by resembling thee. 




Fast by that shore where Thames' translucent stream 

Reflects new glories on his breast, 
Where, splendid as the youthful poet's dream. 

He forms a scene beyond Elysium blest 

Where sculptur'd elegance and native grace =. 

Unite to stamp the beauties of the place. 
While sweetly blending still are seen 
The wavy lawn, the sloping green — 
While novelty, with cautious cunning. 
Through ev'ry maze of fancy running, ,o 

From China borrows aid to deck the scene 

There, sorrowing by the river's glassy bed, 

Forlorn, a rural bard complain'd. 
All whom Augusta's bounty fed, 

All whom her clemency sustain'd ; 15 

The good old sire, unconscious of decay. 
The modest matron, clad in homespun gray. 
The military boy, the orphan'd maid, 
The shatter'd veteran, now first dismay'd ; 



These sadly join beside the murmuring deep, 

And, as they view 

The towers of Kew, 
Call on their mistress — now no more — and weep. 


Ye shady walks, ye waving greens, 

Ye nodding towers, ye fairy scenes — 

Let all your echoes now deplore 

That she who form'd your beauties is no more. 



First of the train the patient rustic came. 

Whose callous hand had form'd the scene. 
Bending at once with sorrow and with age, 30 

With many a tear and many a sigh between ; 
' And where,' he cried, ' shall now my babes have 

Or how shall age support its feeble fire I 
No lord will take me now, my vigour fled, 54 

Nor can my strength perform what they require ; 
Each grudging master keeps the labourer bare — 
A sleek and idle race is all their care. 
My noble mistress thought not so : 

Her bounty, like the morning dew. 
Unseen, though constant, used to flow ; 40 

And as my strength decay'd, her bounty grew.' 


In decent dress, and coarsely clean. 
The pious matron next was seen — 


Claap'd in her hand a godly book was borne, 
By are and daily meditation worn ; 
That decent dress, this holy guide, 
Augusta's care had well supphed. 
' And ah ! ' she cries, all woe-begone, 

' What now remains for me ? 
Oh ! where shall webpint; want repair. 

To ask for charity ? 
Too late in life for me to ask, 

And shame prevents the deed, 
And tardy, tardy are the times 

To succour, should I need. 
But all my wants, before I spoke, 

Were to my Mistress known ; 
She still reliev'd, nor sought my praise. 

Contented with her own. 
But ev'ry day her name I'll bless, 
^ My morning prayer, my evening song, 
I'll praise her while my life shall last, 
A life that cannot last me long.' 


Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless— 
My morning and my evening song ; 

And when in death my vows shall cease. 
My children shall the note prolong. 


The hardy veteran after struck the sight, 
Scarr'd, mangled, maim'd in every part, 

Lopp'd of his limbs in many a gallant fight. 
In nought entire— except his heart. 









Mute to a uiiile, and sullenly distreaa'd. 
At ia8t the impetuoua sorrow fir'd his breast. 
' Wild is the whirlwind rolling 

O'er Afric's sandy plain, 
And wild the tempest howl-ng 

Along the billow'd main : 
But every danger felt before — 
The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar — 
Less dreadful struck me with dismay. 
Than what I feel this fatal day. 
Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave, 
Oswego's dreary shores shall be my grave ; 
I'll seek that less inhospitable coast. 
And lay my body where my limbs were lost.' 



Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield, 
Shall crowd from Crecy's laurell'd field. 

To do thy memory right ; 
For thine and Britain's wrongs tli y feel, 
Again they snatch the gleamy steel. 

And wish the avenging fight. 


In innocence and youth complaining. 

Next appear'd a lovely maid, 
Affliction o'er each feature reigning. 

Kindly came in beauty's aid ; 
Every grace that grief dispenses, 

Every glance that warms the soul, 
In sweet suecef.sion charmed the senses, 

While pity harmonized the whole. 




'The garland of beauty'-'tis thus she would wy- 

No more shall my crook or my temples adorn. 
I U not wear a garland- Augusta 's away, 
I'll not wear a garUnd until she return • 
But alas ! that return I never shall see 

The echoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim' 
There promised a lover to come-but, O me • 
'Twas death.-'twas the death of my mistress that 

But ever, for ever, her image shall last, 
1 11 strip all the spring of ,ls earliest bloom ; ,o. 

On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be cast 
And the new-blossomed thorn shall whiten her 


With garlands of beauty the queen of the May 

No more will her crook or her temples adorn ■ 
For who'd wear a garland when she is away 

When she is remoVd, and shall never return. ,,., 
On the grave of Augusta these garlands be plac'd. 

We'll rifle the spring of its eariiest bloom. 
And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, 

And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her tomb. 


On the grave of Augusta this garland be plac'd, ,« 
We'll rifle the spring of its eariiest bloom. 

And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast. 
And the tears of hor country shall water her tomb. 




Lit school-inastera puzzle their brain, 

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning ; 
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, 

Gives genus a better discerning. 
Let them brag of their heathenish gods, j 

Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians : 
Their Quis, and their Quaes, and their Quods, 

They're all but a parcel of Pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 

When Methodist preachers come down 

A-preaching that drinking is sinful, u 

I'll wager the rascals a crown 

They always preach best with a skinful. 
But when you come down with your pence. 

For a slice '. ir scurvy religion, 
I'll leave it to all men of sense, ij 

Put you, my good friend, are the pigeon, 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 

Then come, put the jorum about, 

And let us be merry and clever ; 
Our hearts and our liquors are stout ; 

Here 's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 2< 

Let some cry up woodcock or hare, 

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons ; 
But of all the birds in the air, 

Here 's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 



Well, having Htoop'd to conquer with succeiw 
And gain'd a husband without aid from dress, 
Still, a8 a Bar-maid, I could wish it too, 
A» I have conquer'd him, to conquer you : 
And let me say, for all your resolution, j 

That pretty Bar-niaids have done execution 
Our life u all a play, compos'd to please, 
' We have our exits and our entrances.' 
The First Act shows the simple country maid 
Harmless and young, of ev'ry thing afraid • ' ,o 
Blushes when hir'd, and, with unmeaning action, 
I hopes as how to give you satisfaction.' 
Her Secona it displays a livelier sccne- 
Tir unblushing Bar-maid of a country inn 
Who whisks about the house, at market caters, ,j 
Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters 
Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars. 
The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs. 
On 'Squires and Cits she there displays her arts. 
And on the gridiron broils her lovers' hearts : ' „ 
And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete. 
Even Common-Councilmen forget to eat. 
The Fourth Act shows her wedded to the 'Squire, 
And Madam now begins to hold it higher ; 
Pretends to taste, at Operas cries cam, ,. 

And quits her Nancy Dawson, for Che faro, 
Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride, ' 
Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside ; 



Oglea Bnd leera with artificial skill, 
'Till having lost in age the power to kill, jo 

She lita all night at cardii, and ogles at spadiUe. 
Such, through our live*, the eventful history— 
The Fifth and Laat Act itill remains for me. 
The Bar-maid now for your protection prays, 
Turns Female Barrister, and pleads for Bayes. a 

VKiNnrrt To 'rltaliation' 


Of old, when Scarron his companions invited 
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united • 
If our landlord supplies us with beef, and with fish 
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish ' 
Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains • , 
Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains ; ' 
Our Will shall be wild-fowl, of excellent flavour 
And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour ■ 
Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain. 
And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain • ,o 
Our Garrick's a salad; for in him we see 
Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree : 
To make out the dinner, full certain I am. 
That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb • 
That Hickey's a capon, and by the same rule,' „ 
Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry fool. 
At a dinner so various, at such a repast. 
Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last ? 
Here, waiter ! more wine, let me sit while I'm able, 
Till all my companions sink under the table ; „ 

Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head 
Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead. 

Here lies the good Dean, re-united to earth, 
Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom' with 

mirth : 
K he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, ,. 

At least, in six weeks. I could not find 'em out ; 



Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied 'em, 
That sly-boots wa« cursedly cunning to hide 'em. 

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such. 
We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; 30 
Who, born for the Universe, narrow'd his mind. 
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. 
Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his 

To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote ; 
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, 3$ 
And thought of convincing, while they thought of 

Though equal to all things, for all things unfit. 
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit : 
For a patriot, too cool ; for a drudge, disobedient ; 
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. 40 
In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place. Sir, 
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. 

Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint. 
While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't ; 
The pupil of impulse, it forc'd him along, 45 

His conduct still right, with his argument wrong ; 
Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam, 
The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home ; 
Would you ask for his merits 1 alas ! he had none ; 
What was good was spontaneous, his faults were bis own. 50 

Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at ; 
Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet ! 
What spirits were his ! what wit and what whim ! 
Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb ; 


Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball » 
Now teaming and vexing, yet laughing at all • " 

in short, 80 provoking a devil was Dick, 
That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick ; 
But, missing h.s mirth and agreeable vein 
As often we wish'd to have Dick back aglin. 60 

Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts. 
The Terence of England, the mender of heVrts 
A flattermg painter, who made it his care 
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are 
H^s gallants are all faultless, his women diWne, 
And comedy wonders at being so fine • 
Like a tragedy queen he has dizen'd her out, 
Or rather like tragedy giving a rout. 
H.S fools have their follies so lost in a crowd 
Of vutues and feelings, that folly grows proud; 
And coxcombs, alike in their faUings alone. 
Adopting his portraits, are pleas'd with their own 
bay, where has our poet this malady caught » 
Or, wherefore his characters thus without fault ^ 
hay was it that vainly directing his view 

lit TT""" ^''*"''' """^ ^"'^'"B 'hem few, 
Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf 
He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself ? 

Here Douglas retires, from his toils to relax 
The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks : so 
Come, aU ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines. 
Come,and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines : 
When Satu^ and Censure encircl'd his throne 
X feard for your safety, I fear'd for my own- 






But now he is gone, and we want a detector, 85 

Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture ; 
Macpherson write bombast, and call it a style, 
Our Townshend make speeches, and 1 shall compile ; 
New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over, 
No countryman living their tricks to discover ; 90 
Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, 
And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the 

Here lies David Garrick, describe me, who can. 
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man ; 
As an actor, confess'd without rival to shine : 95 

As a wit, if not first, in the very first line : 
Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart. 
The man had his faihngs, a dupe to his art. 
Likv' an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread. 
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. 100 
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting ; 
'Twas only that when he was off he was acting. 
With no reason on earth to go out of his way. 
He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day. 
Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 105 
If they were not his own by finessing and trick, 
He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack. 
For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them 

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came. 
And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame ; 110 
Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease. 
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. 



But let us be candid, and »peak out our mind, 
M dunces applauded, he paid then, in kind. 
Ye Kenncks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalis .o grave, „, 
Wha^t^a^commerce was you™, whUe you got and you 

Wh.Ie he was be-Roscius'd, and you wer^ be-prais'd 
But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies 
To act as an angel, and mix with the skies : 

Shall st,ll be hm flatterers, go where he wUl. 

Old Shakespeare, receive him, with praise and with love, 

And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. 

Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thu,!!pe;. 

Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser » 

I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser : 

Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat « 

His very worst foe can't accuse him of that • 

Perhaps he confided in men as they go 

And so was too foolishly honest ? Ah no ! 

Then what was his failing? come, tell it, and, burn ye ' 

He was. could he help it 2_a special attorney. ' 



Here Reynolds is laid, and. to teU you my mind, 
He has not left a better or wiser behind ■ 
His pencU was striking, resistless, and grand • 
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; .,o 



Still born to improve us in every part. 

His pencil our faces, his manners our heart : 

To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering. 

When they judg'd without skill he was still hard of 

hearing : 
When they talk'd of their Raphaeb, Correggios, and 

stuff, MS 

He shifted hia trumpet, and only took snuff. 


After the Fourth Edition of this Poem was printed, the 
Publisher received an Epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord, from 
a friend of the late Doctor Goldsmith, inclosed in a letter, 
of which the following is an abstract : — 

' I have in my possession a sheet of paper, containing 
near forty lines in the Doctor's own hand-writing : there 
are many scr.ttered, broken verses, on Sir Jos. Reynolds, 
Counsellor Ridge, Mr. Beauclerk, and Mr. Whitefoord. 
The Epitaph on the last-mentioned gentleman is the only 
one that is finished, and therefore I have copied it, that 
you may add it to the next edition. It is a striking proof 
of Doctor Goldsmith's good-nature. I saw this sheet of 
paper in the Doctor's room , five or six days before he died ; 
and, as I had got all the other Epitaphs, I asked him if 
I might take it. " In truth you may, my Boy," (replied 
he,) " for it will be of no use to me where I am going." ' 

Here Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can. 
Though he merrily liv'd, he is now a grave man ; 
Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun ! 
Who relish'd a joke, and rejoic'd in a pun ; ijo 



Whoae temper was generous, open, sincere ■ 

A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear ; 

Who scatter'd around wit and humour at will ■ 

Whose daily bons mot, half a column might fill • 

A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free • ,„ 

A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he. ' ' 

What pity, alas ! that so lib'ral a mind 
Should so long be to news-paper essays confin'd ; 
Who perhaps to the summit of science could soar 
Yet content ' if the table he set on a roar • • ' ,r,<, 
Whose talents to fiU any station were fit 
Yet happy if Woodfall confessed him a wit. 

Ye news-paper witlings ! ye pert seribWIi.g folks 
Who copied his squibs, and re-echoed his jokes • 
Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, ' .g. 

Still follow your master, and visit his tomb • 
To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine 
And copious libations bestow on his shrine ■ 
Then strew aU around it (you can do no less) 
Cross-rmdinga, Ship-newa, and Mistakes of the Press 

Mer^ Whitefoorf, farewell ! for thy sake I admit '.;, 
Ihat a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit • 
This debt to thy mem'ry I cannot refuse, 
'Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd 




Ah, me ! when ahall I marry me ? 

Lovers are plenty ; but fail to relieve me : 
He, fond youth, that could carry me, 

Offers to love, but means to deceive me. 

But I will ratty, and combat the ruiner : ; 

Not a looli, not a smile shall my passion discover : 
She that gives all to the false one pursuing her. 

Makes but a penitent, loses a lover. 


Chaste are their instincts, faithful is their fire. 
No foreign beauty tempts to false desire ; 
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown. 
The simple plumage, or the glossy down 
Prompt not their loves : — the patriot bird pursues 5 
His well acquainted tints, and kindred hues. 
Hence through their tribes no mix'd polluted flame, 
No monster-breed to mark the groves with shame; 
But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true, 
Thinks black alone is beauty's favourite hue. lo 
The nightingale, with mutual passion blest, 
Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest; 
While the dark owl to court its partner flies. 
And owns its offspring in their yellow eyes. 


Thanks, my Lord, for your veninon, for finer or fatter 
Never rang'd in a forest, or ..nok'd in a platter; 
The haunch was a picture for painters to study. 
The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy. 
Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help 
regrettmg "^ 

To spoil such a delicate picture by eating • ' 

I had thoughts, in my chambers, to plact it' in view 
To be shown to my friends as a piece of virii, ■ 
As m some Irish houses, where things are so so 
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show: ' ,o 
But or eating a rasher of what they take pride in, 
They d aa soon think of eating the pan it is fried in. 
But hold-let me pause-Don't I hear you pronounce 
Ihis tale of the bacon a damnable bounce ? 
Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may tnr, , , 
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly. 

But, my Lord, it '8 no bounce: I protest in my turn 
It s a truth-and your Lordship may ask Mr. Byrne' 
To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch 
I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch ;',o 
bo 1 cut It. and sent it to Reynolds undress'd. 
To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd best 
Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose ■ 
Twas a neck and a breast-that might rival M-r-'s • 



But in parting with these I was puzzled again, >> 
With the how, and the who, and the where, and the 

There's H— d, and O— y, and H— rth, and H— ff. 
I think they love venison — I know they love b-'ef ; 
There 's my countryman H — gg — ns — Oh ! let him 

For making a blunder, or picking a bone. 30 

But hang it — to poets who seldom can eat. 
Your very good mutton 's a very good treat ; 
Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt. 
It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt. 
While thus I debated, in reverie centred, 3.; 

An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd ; 
An under-bred, fine spoken fellow was he. 
And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me. 
' What have we got here ? — Why, this is good eating ! 
Your own, I suppose — or is it in waiting ? ' 40 

* Why, whose should it be ? ' cried I with a flounce, 
' I get these things often ; ' — but that was a bounce : 
' Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation, 
Are pleas'd to be kind — but I hate ostentation.' 

' If that be the case, then,' cried he, very gay, 45 
' I'm glad I have taken this house in my way. 
To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me ; 
No words — I insist on't — precisely at three : 
We'll have Johnson, and Burke ; all the wits will be 

there ; 
My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my Lord Clare. 50 
And now that I think on't, as I am a sinner ! 
We wanted this venison to make out the dinner. 


Wh.t «y you-. pa,ty ? it »h.Il, and it mu.t. 
And my wrfe, l.ttle Kitty, i, f.„ou, for crurt. 
Here porter !_thi. veni«,„ with me to Mile-end • „ 

Thus Bm,tchmg hui h.t, he bru.h'd off like the wind. 
And the porter and eatable, follow'd behind. 

■A^' 'l!!!!r *°:'!"~*' '■"''"« "•"?"«» -"y "helf. 
And nobody with me at ^a but myself ; 
1 hough I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty. 

Were thing, that I never dislik'd in my life. ^ 

Though clogg-d with a cxcomb, and Kitty hi. wife. 
So ne,t day, m due splendour to make my approach «, 
1 drove to hi. door in my own hackney cLT 

When come to the place where we all were to dine 
(A ha,r.lumberM closet just twelve feet by nine J 
My r^ndbademe welcome. butstruckmequi^edum. 

W.tht,d,ngsthatJohnson and Burke would not come ,0 
For I knew t.' he cried, ' both eternally fail, ' 
The one w,th his speeches, and fother with Thrale • 

With two full as clever, and ten times as heam^. 
The one ,, a Scotchman, the other a Jew, ., 

They[re] both of them meny and autho™ like you ' 

Wh^e thus he describ'd them by trade, and by nle 
They enter-d. and dinner was serv'd as they came «, 

At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen ; 

aoLMuna « 



At the tides there was spinach and pudding made hot ; 
In the middle a place where the pasty— was not. 
Now, my Lord, as for tripe, it's my utter aversion, B.« 
And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian ; 
So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a nound, 
While the bacon and liver went merrily round. 
But what vex'd me most was that d— 'd Scottish rogue, 
With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his 

brogue ; 9» 

And, ' Madam,' quoth he, ' may this bit be my poison, 
A prettier dinner I never set eyes on ; 

Pray a slice of your liver, though may I be curs'd. 
But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst.' 
' The tripe,' quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, 95 
' I could dine on this tripe seven days in the week : 
I like these here dinners so pretty and small; 
But your friend there, the Doctor, eats nothing at 

' 0— Oh ! ' quoth my friend, ' he'll come on in a trice. 
He's keeping a corner for something that's nice: 100 
There 's a pasty '— ' A pasty ! ' repeated the Jew, 
' I don't care if 1 keep a corner for 't too.' 
' What the de'il, mon, a pasty ! ' re-echoed the Scot, 
' Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for thot.' 
' We'll all keep a corner,' the lady cried out ; 105 

' We'll all keep a corner,' was echoed about. 
While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd. 
With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid ; 
A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, 
Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night. no 
But we quickly found out, for who could mistake her ? 
That she came with some terrible news from the baker : 



And ^ it fell „ut, ,„, ,,., 

H-d .hut C.U. .he p^ty „„ .hutUng hi. ovc. 
««d •»' thu8-but let ,imile. drop- 

A relwh-a t«.te_«,oken'd over by learning ■ 
A e.,t. it •« your temper. ., verj wel Zwn 
That yo„ u,„, ,„^ ^,,^„^,^ ^, ^/^^^^,^ Wn 

^. Perhap.. ,„ y„„, h^tit, „, „.i„king ami J ' 

Vou may make. miaUke. and thi„it^ighT:;;,thia. 



This tomb, inscrib'd to gentle Pamell's name, 

May speak our gratitude, but not his fame. 

What heart but feels his sweetly-moral lay, 

That leads to truth through pleasure's flowery way ! 

Celestial themes confess'd his tuneful aid ; 

And Heaven, that lent him genius, was repaid. 

Needless to him the tribute we bestow — 

The transitory breath of fame below : 

More lasting rapture from his works shall rise, 

While converts thank their po^t in the skies. 


John Teott was desired by two witty peers 
To tell them the re?,sou why asses had ears 1 
' An't please you,' quoth John, 'I'm not given to letters. 
Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; 
Howe'er, from this tir .e I shall ne'er see your graces, 
As I hope to be saved ! without thinking on asses.' 


Here lies poor Ned Piirdon, from misery freed, 
Who long was a bookseller's hack ; 

He led such a damnable life in this world, — 
I don't think he'll wish to come back. 



HOLB - Prompter, hold ! a woM before your „o„«en«e ; 
Id speak a word or two. to ea«e my conHcience. 
My pnde forbids it ever should be said 
My heels eclips'd the honours of my held • 
That I found humour in a piebald vest, 
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. 

Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth ' 

Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth 

in thy black aspect every passion sleeps, 

The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps. , 

How hast thou fiU'd the scene with aU thy brood. 

Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd ' 

Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses. 

Whose only plot it is to break our noses ; 

Whilst from below the trap-door Demons rise 

And from above the dangling deities ; 

And shall I mix in this unhaUow'd crew * 

May rosined lightning blast me. if I do ' 

No-I will act. I'U vindicate the stage • 

Shakespeare himself shaU feel my tragic rage. 

Off. off! vile trappmgs! a new passion reigns ! 

Ihe maddnmg monarch revels in my veins. 

Oh ! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme • 
Oive me another horse ! bind up my wounds .'-sof t- 
twas but a dream.' 
Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there 's no retreating- .. 
If 1 cease Harlequin. I cease from eating. 




'Twas thus that Aesop's stag, a creature blameless, 
Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless, 
Once on the margin of a fountain stood, 
And cavill'd at his image in the flood. jo 

' The deuce confound,' he cries, ' these drumstick 

They never have my gratitude nor thanks ; 
They're perfectly disgraceful ! strike me dead ! 
But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. 
How piercing is that eye ! how sleek that brow ! 35 
My horns ! I'm told horns are the fashion now.' 
Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd, to his view, 
Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew. 
* Hoicks ! hark fcward ! ' came thund'ring from 

He bounds aloft, oui.strips the fleeting wind : 40 

He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways ; 
He starts, he pants, he takes the circHng maze. 
At length his silly head, so priz'd before. 
Is taught his former foUy to deplore ; 
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, 45 
And at one bound he saves himself, -like me. 

{Taking a jump through the stage door.) 




Enter Mrs. Bulklev, who cuHsie, very low as beginni,w 
^ speak. Then enter Miss Catley, who stands fvll 
before her, and curtsies to the audience. 


Hold, Ma'am, your pardon. Whafs your business 
here ? 


The Epilogue. 


The Epilogue ? 


Yes, the Epilogue, my dear. 


Sure you mistake, Ma'am. The Epilogue. / bring it. 


Excuse me, Ma'am. Tlie Author bid me sing it. 

Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, 5 
Suspend your conversation whUe I sing. 


Why, sure the gu-l's beside herself: an Epilogue of 

A hopeful end indeed to .^uch a blest beginning. 



Besides, a singer in a comic set ! — 
Excuse me, Ma'am, I know the etiquette. 


What if we leave it to the House ? 


The House ! — Agreed. 



And she, whose party 's largest, shall proceed. 

And first I hope, you'll readily agree 

I've all the critics and the wits for me. 

They, I am sure, will answer my commands : i; 

Ye candid-judging few, hold up your hands. 

What ! no return ? I find too late, I fear, 

That modern judges seldom enter here. 


I'm for a different set. — Old men, whose trade is 
Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies ; — 20 

Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, 
Still thus address the fair with voice beguiling : — 

Air — Cotillon. 
Turn, my fairest, turn, if ever 

Strephon caught thy ravish'd eye ; 
Pity take on your swain so clever, aj 

Who without your aid must die. 


Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu ' 
Yes, I must die, ho, ho, ho, ho ! 

(Da capo.) 


Let all the old pay homage to your merit; 

yH ,p^'/°k""*' '^^ ^^y- '^' "«'" °f spirit- 30 
Ye travelPdtnbe, ye macaroni train, ' 

Who take a trip to Paris once a year 

Lend me your hands.-Oh .' fatal news to tell : 3. 
Their hands are only lent to the Heinel. 


Ay, take your travellers, travellers indeed ' 

Give me my bonny S.ot, that travels from the Tweed 

Wherearethechiels. Ah! Ah.IwelldLer 
The smihng looks of each bewitching bairn. 

Air-A ' mny young lad U my Jockey. 
I'll sing to amu.s, you by night and by day 
And be unco merry when you are but gay ; 
When you with your bagpipes are ready to play 
My voice shaU be ready to carol away ''' 

With Sandy, and Sawney, and Jockey, 
With Sawney, and Jarvie, and Jockey. 

Ye gamesters, who, .0 eager in pursuit. 
Make but of all your fortune one m tovle ; 
E 3 



Ye jockey tribe, whoiie stock of words are few, 

' I hold the odds.— Done, done, with you, with you;' jo 

Ye barristers, so fluent with grimace, 

'My Lord,— your Lordship misconceives the case;' 

Doctors, who cough and answer every misfortuner, 

' I wish I'd been called in a little sooner:' 

Assist my cause with hands and voices hearty; 55 

Come, end the contest here, and aid my party. 


A ir — BaUinamimy. 

Ye brave Irish lads, hark away to the crack, 

Assist me, I pray, in this woful attack ; 

For sure I don't wrong you, you seldom are slack. 

When the ladies are calling, to blush and hang back ; 60 
For you're always polite and attentive. 
Still to amuse us inventive. 
And death is your only preventive : 
Your hands and your voices for me. 


Well, Madam, what if, after all this sparring, 65 

We both agree, like friends, to end our jarring ? 


And that our friendship may remain unbroken. 
What if we leave the Epilogue unspoken ? 







Conde„„ «,e stubborn fool who can't Ibmit '" 

To thnve by fattery. though he starves by lit. 





Thire is a place, so Ariosto sings, 
A treasury for lost and missing things ; 
Lost human wits have places there assign'd them, 
And they, who lose their senses, there may find them. 
But where 's this place, this storehouse of the age ? 5 
The Moon, says he :— but / affirm the Stage : 
At least in many things, I thinlt, I see 
His lunar, and our mimic world agree. 
Both shine at night, for, but at Foote's alone, 
We scarce exhibit till the sun goes down. lo 

Both prone to change, no settled limits fix. 
And sure the folks of both are lunatics. 
But in this parallel my best pretence is. 
That mortals visit both to find their senses. 
To this strange spot. Rakes, Macaronies, CHt*, 15 

Come thronging to collect their scatt«rM wits. 
The gay coquette, who ogles all the day, 
Comes here at night, and goes a prude away. 
Hither the affected city dame advancing, 
Who sighs for operas, and dotes on dancing, 20 

'aught by our art her ridicule to pause on, 
,juits the Ballet, and calls for Nancy Dawson. 
The Gamester too, whose wit's all high or low, 
Oft risks his fortune on one desperate throw, 
Comes here to saunter, having made his beta, 
Finds his lost senses out, and pay his debts. 



The Mohawk too-with angry phrase, stored, 

As ' D , Sir,' and ' Sir, I wear a sword ' ; 

Here lesson'd for a while, and hence retreating. 
Goes out, affronts his man, and takes a beating. 
Here come the sons of scandal and of news. 
But find no sense-for they had none to lo^. 
Of all the tribe here wanting an adviser 
Our Author's the least likely to grow wiser; 
Has he not seen how you your favour place. 
On sentimental Queens and Lords in lace ? 
Without a star, a coronet or garter. 
How can the piece expect or hope for quarter ? 
No high-life scenes, no sentiment :— the creature 
Still stoops among the low to copy nature. 
Yes, he's far gone :— and yet some pity fix, 
The English laws forbid to punish lunatics. 






First Israelitish Prophet. 

Second Ihraelitihh Profhit. 

israelitish woman. 

First Craldban Priest. 

Second Chaldean Priest. 

Chaldean Woman. 

Chorus or Youths and Virgins. 

Scene — The Banks of the River Euphrates, near 



ACT I-Sc«N» I. 
ItnaUet tiUing on tht Bankt ol the EupHratu. 


Yk captive tribw, that hourly work and weep 
Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep 

Suspend awhile th- a.., the tear suspend '^^ 

And turn to Gci, y „, ,.,,her and your Friend. 

In«ultedcha,...„„d ,„,,,, ^„,y; 

Our God air,,., i. ,ii ,,.,, ,,,.,.t ^^^^ 



■i '••f'.T, 

'■■- boast below. 

Our God is hi 

To him we turn our eyes ; 
And every added weight of woe 

Shall make our homage rise. 


And though no temple richly drest, 

Nor sacrifice is here ; 
We'll make his temple in our breast, 

And offer up a tear. 

[The firtt ttanza repeated by the Chorvt. 






That strain once more ; it bids remembrance rise. 

And brings my long-lost country to mine eyes. t6 

Ye fields of Sharon, dress'd in flow'ry pride. 

Ye plains where Jordan rolls its glassy tide. 

Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars nrown'd. 

Ye Gilead groves, that fling perfumes around, jo 

These hills how sweet ! those plains how wond'rous 

But sweeter still, when Heaven was with us there ! 

O Memory, thou fond deceiver. 
Still importunate and vain ; 

To former joys recurring ever. 
And turning all the past to pain ; 

Hence, intruder, most distressing. 
Seek the happy and the free ; 

The wretch who wants each other 
Ever wants a friend in thee, 




Yet, why complain ? What, though by bonds confin'd, 
Should bonds repress the vigour of the mind ? 
Have we not cause for triumph when we see 
Ourselves alone from idol-worship fro ? 
Are not this very morn those feasts begun, 35 

Where prostrate error hails the rising sun ? 
Do not our tyrant lords this day ordain 
For superstitious rites and mirth profane ? 


And should we mourn ? should coward virtue flv 
When ,™p,ous folly rears her front on high ' " ' 
No ; rather let us triumph still the n.ore 
And as our fortune sinks, our wishes soar. 


The triumphs that on vice attend 

Shall ever in confusion end ; 

The good man suffers but to gain 

And every virtue springs from pain : " 

As aromatic plants bestow 

No spicy fragrance while they grow • 

But crush'd, or trodden to the ground 

Diffuse their balmy 8we.,ts around. ' 


But hush my sons, our tyrant lorfs are near- 

TriuZ . "' '""'"" P'^"'^ "»"''« --« ear; 
Tnumphant music floats along the vale- 

Near, nearer still, it gathe™ on the gale • 

The growing sound their swift approach decUres;- 

Desist, my son., nor mix the strain with theirs. .,6 

Enter Chaldean Primto attended. 


Come on, my companions, the triumph display 

1-et rapture the minutes employ ; 
The sun calls us out on this festival day 

And our monarch partakes in the joy ' to 



Like the sun, our greai monarch all rapture aupplies, 

Both similar blessings bestow ; 
The sun with his splendour illumines the skies, 

And our monarch enlivens below. 


Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure; 65 

Love presents the fairest treasure. 
Leave all other joys for me. 


Or rather, Love's delights despising, 
Haste to raptures ever rising: 
Wine shall bless the brave and free. 7° 


Wine and beauty thus inviting. 
Each to different joys exciting. 
Whither shall my choice incline ? 


I'll waste no longer thought in choosing; 
But, neither this nor that refusing, 75 

I'll make them both together mine. 


But whence, when joy should brighten o'er the land. 

This sullen gloom in Judah's captive band ? 

Ye sons of Judah, why the lute unstrung ? 

Or why those harps on yonder willows hung ? 80 

Come, take the lyre, and pour the strain along. 

The day demands it ; sing us Sion's song. 


Dismiss your griefs, and join our warbling choir. 
For who like you can wake the sleeping lyre ? 


Bow'd down with chains, the scorn of all mankind 

ro want, to toil, and every ill consign'd. 86 

is this a time to bid us raise the strai,, 

Or mix in rites that Heaven regards with pain » 

No, never ! May this hand forget each art 

Xhat speeds the power of music to the heart, ,0 

Ere I forget the land that gave me birth, 

Or jom with sounds profane its sacred mirth ! 


Insultmg slaves ! if gentler methods fail, 
The whips and angry tortures shall prevail. 

[Exeunt Chaldeans 


Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer • 
We fear the Lord, and know no other fear. \c 


Can whips or tortures hurt the mind 

On God's supporting breast reclin'd t 

Stand fast, and let our tyrants see 

That fortitude is victory. [Exeunt 




Scene as before. 


O PEACE of mind, angelic gue8t ! 
Thou soft companion of the breast ! 

Dispense thy balmy store. 
Wing all our thoughts to reach the 
Till earth, receding from our eyes. 

Shall vanish as we soar. 


No more ! Too long has justice been delay'd, 
The king's commands must fully be obey'd ; 
Compliance with his will your peace secures, 
Praise but our gods, and every good is yours. 
But if, rebellious to his high command. 
You spurn the favours ofier'd from his hand, 
Think, timely think, what terrors are behind ; 
Reflect, nor tempt to rage the royal mind. 


Fierce is the whirlwind howling 

0"er Afric's sandy plain. 
And fierce the tempest rolling 
Along the furrow'd main : 
But storms that fly, 
To rend the sky, 



Every ill preBaging, 

Lens dreadful show 

To worldti below 
Than angry monarch'a raging. 


Ah, me ! what angry terrors round us gww • ,. 

How shrinks my soul to meet the thi^ten'd blow ' ' 
Ye prophet*, skill'd in Heaven's eternal truth, 
>orgive my tex's fears, forgive my youth ! 
If, .hrinking thus, when frowning power appears 
I wish for life, and yield me to my feare. ' ^ 

Let us o™- hour, one little hour obey ; 
To-morrow's tears may wa»h our stains away. 


To tke last moment of his breath 

On hope the wretch relies ; 
And e'en the pang preceding death 

Bids expectation rise. 
Hope, like the gleaming taper's light. 

Adorns and cheers our way ; 
And still, as darker grows the night. 

Emits a brighter ray. 


Why this delay < at length for joy prepare ; 
I read your looks, and see compliance there. 
Come on, and bid the warbling rapture rise, 
Our monarch's fame the noblest theme supplies. 




Begin, ye captive bands, and strike the lyre, 45 
The time, the theme, the place, and all conspire. 



See the ruddy morning smiling. 
Hear the grove to bliss beguiling ; 
Zephyrs through the woodland playing. 
Streams along the valley straying. 


While these a constant revel keep, 
Shall Reason only teiich to weep S 
Hence, intruder ! we'll pursue 
Nature, a better guide than you. 


Every moment, as it flows, 
Some peculiar pleasure owes ; 
Then let us, providently wise, 
Seize the debtor as it flies. 
Think not to-morrow can repay 
The pleasures that we lose to-day ; 
To-morrow's most unbounded store 
Can but pay its proper score. 


But hush ! see, foremost of the captive choir. 
The master-prophet grasps his fuU-ton'd lyre. 
Mark where he sits, with executing art, «5 

Feels for each tone, and speeds it to the heart ; 





See how prophetic rapture tills his form, 
Awful M clouds that nurse the growing ' storm ; 
And now his voice, accordant to the string. 
Prepares our monarch's victories to sing. jo 


From north, from south, from east, from west, 

Conspiring natioiw come ; 
Tremble, thou vice-polluted breast ; 

BlasphemerB, all be dumb. 
The tempest gathers all around, 

On Babylon it lies ; 
Down with her ! down-down to the ground ; 

She sinks, she groans, she dies. 


Down with her. Lord, to Ikk the dust, 
Ere yonder setting sun ; s^, 

Serve her as she hath served the just ! 
'Tis fixed— it shaU be done. 


No more! when slaves ftr;. ;n»oi. nt presume, 

The king himself sh..)! jn.\y,, »:..( .j;, their doom. 

Unthinking wretches ! h^^e a,n you, and all, 85 

Beheld our power in Zwdeklah't fall ? 
To yonder gloomy dungeon V rn vav , vn,. ; 
See where dethroned your captive m,u. h W< 
Depriv'd of sight and rankling in hi. chain , s. 
See where he mourns his friends and J. Idren slaiu 



Yet know, ye iilave*, that atill remain Iwliind 
More ponderous cliainx. and dungeons more confin'd. 

CHoaiTs or Atx. 
Arise, all potent ruler, rue, 

And vindicate thy jieople's cause ; 
Till every tongue in every land 95 

ShfiU offer up unfeign'd applause. 



Scene as hvfore. 


Ybs, my companions. Heaven's detrccs are p- t, 

And our fix'd empire sliall for ever last ; 

In vain the madd'ning prophet threatens woe, 

In vain rebellion alms her sec ret blow ; 

Still shall our fame and growing power be spreud, 

And still our vengeance crush the traitor's head. << 


Coeval with man 

Our empire began, 

And never shall fail 

Till ruin shakes all ; 10 

When ruin shakes all, 

Then sliall Babylon fall. 


rimiT 'ROPHBT. 

•Tij. thitt tim. pride triumphant rear, .1,. head 

A I.ttle while, and all tluir power i» fled 

But ha! what mean, yon sadly plai.rive'train. 

That thM way slowly bend along the plain ? 

And now, methinks, to yonder bank they bear 

A palled corse, and rest the body there 

Alas ! too well mine eyes indignant trnr,. 

The last remains of Judah's royal race 

Our monarch falls, and now our fear, are o'er 

Unhappy ZedekUh is no more ! 


Yc wretches who, by fortum's hate, 

In want and sorrow groan ; 
Come ponder his severer fate, 

And ksarn to bloss your own. 
You vain, whom .^ uth and pleasure guide 

Awhile the bliss suspend ; 
Like yours, his life began in pride, 
Like his, your lives shall end. 


Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn 
H.S squalid limbs with pondrous fetters torn • 
Those eyeless orbs that shock with ghastly glare, 
Those Ill-becoming rags-that matted hair - 
And shall not Heaven for this its terrors show ,- 
Grasp the red bolt, and lay the guilty low > 



Maocorr iesouition test CH«*r 








I |Z2 





SS"- '^53 EqsI Main Street 

^^ Roch«ter, Htw York 14609 USA 

•■^— (?'6) 482 - 0300 - Ptione 

^S (^'6) ZM - 5989 -Fa, 


How long, how long, Almighty God of all. 
Shall wrath vindictive threaten ere it fall ! 


Ab panting flies the hunted hind, 

Where brooks refreshing stray ; 4o 

And rivers through the valley wind, 

That stop the hunter's way : 
Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest, 

For streams of mercy long ; 
Those streams which cheer the sore opprest, 

And overwhelm the strong. 4* 


But, whence that shout ? Good heavens! amazement 

See yonder tower just nodding to the fall : 
See where an army covers all the ground, 
Saps the strong wall, and pours destruction round ; 
The ruin smokes, destruction pours along ; .s" 

How low the great, how feeble are the strong ! 
The foe prevails, the lofty walls recline— 
O God of hosts, the victory is thine ! 


Down with them. Lord, to lick the dust ; 

Thy vengeance be begun : 
Serve them as they have serv'd the just. 

And let thy will be done. 





All, all 18 lost. The Syrian army fails 
Cyrus, the conqueror of the world, prevails 
The ruin smokes, the torrent pours along • ' 
How low the proud, how feeble are the strong - 
Save us, O Lord! to thee, though late, we pray 
And g,ve repentance but an hour's delay. 





Thrice happy, who in happy hour 
To Heaven their praise bestow. 

And own his all-consuming power 
Before they feel the blow ! 


Now, now -s our time - ye wretches bold and blind, 
Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind, 4 
loo late you seek that power unsought before 
Your wealth, your pride, your kingdom, are no more. 


O Lucifer, thou son of morn, 
Ahke of Heaven and man the foe ; 
Heaven, men, and all. 

Now press thy fall, '' 

And sink thee lowest of the low. 



Babylon, how art thou fallen ! 
Thy fall more dreadful from delay ! 

Thy streetB forlorn So 

To wilds shall turn, 
Where toads shall pant, and vultures prey. 


Such be her fate. But listen ! from afar 

The clarion's note proclaims the finish'd war ! 

Cyrus, our great restorer, is at hand, 85 

And this way leads his formidable band. 

Give, give your songs of Sion to the wind. 

And hail the benefactor of mankind : 

He comes pursuant to divine decree. 

To chain the strong, and set the captive free. 90 


Rise to transports past expressing. 
Sweeter from remember'd woes ; 

Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing. 
Comes to give the world repose. 


Cyrus comes, the world redressing. 
Love and pleasure in his train ; 

Comes to heighten every blessing. 
Comes to soften every pain. 




Hail to him with mercy reigning, 
bkilled in every peaceful art • 

Who from bonds our li„,bs unchaining. 
Only bmd, the willing heart. 


""Vt'll-" k""' ""^ ''""■ ""^f-''-. Wend, 
Let pra.«e be given to all eternity; 

O Thou, wthout beginning, without end 

I^tus, and all, begin and end, in Thee- 






* This ia a poem ! Thift it & copy of venea t * 

YouK mandate I got, 

You may all en to pot ; 

Had your se.. been right. 

You'd have sent before night ; 

As I hope to be saved, 5 

I put off being shaved ; 

For I could not make bold, 

While the matter was cold. 

To meddle in suds. 

Or to put on ray duds ; lo 

So tell Horneck and Ncsbitt, 

And Baker and his bit. 

And Kauffmann beside, 

And the Jessamy Bride, 

With the rest of the crew, ij 

The Reynoldses two, 

Little Comedy's face. 

And the Captain in lace, 

(By-the-bye you may tell him, 

I have something to sell him ; 20 

Of use I insist. 

When he comes to enlist. 

Your worships must know 

That a few days ago, 

An order went out, 15 

For the foot guards so stout 


To wear tails in high tasto. 
Twelve inches at least : 
Now I've got him a scale 
To measure each tail, 
To lengthen a short tail, 
And a long one to curtail.)— 
Yet how can I when vext, 
Thus stray from my text ? 
Tell each other to rue 
Your Devonshire cre»-, 
Pot sending so late 
To one of my state. 
But 'tis Reynolds's way 
From wisdom to stray, 
And Angelica's whim 
To be frolick like him 

When both have been spoil'd in to-day's Advertiser^. 

Oliver Golds.mith. 









I read your letter with all that allovrance which 
critical candour could require, but after all find .^o much 
to object to, and ao much to ra my indignation, tliat 1 
cannot help giving it a serious a. swer. 

I am not so ignorant, Madam, as not to see there are 
many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms also. 
(Solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleia in 
Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as 
we use the word Kidderminster for curtains, from a town 
also of that name ;— but this is learning you have no 
taste for !)— I say. Madam, there are sarcasms in it, and 
solecisms also. But not to seem an ill-natured critic, 
I'll take leave to quote your own words, and give you 
my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as 
follows : — 

'I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here. 
And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear. 
To open our ball the first clay of the year.' 

Pray, Madam, where did you ever find the epithet 
' good,' applied to the title of Doctor ? Had you called 
me ' learned Doctor,' or ' grave Doctor,' or ' noble Doctor,' 
it might be allowable, becau8<- they belong to the pro- 
fession. But, not to cavil at trifles, you talk of my 
' spring-velvet coat,' and advise me to wear it the first 
day in the year,— that is, in the middle of w .iter !— a 
spring-velvet in the middle of winter ! ! ! That would be 


« "olecism indeed ! and vet f„ • 

'■" another part of yTl,: ° '"""""^ "'^ mcon^istenoe, 
"" one Hide „r o hT ' 1"T:"" """"•^»"- NW. 

"""•"r: and if I am not 1 Z '^ . 'P""K-*-^'vet in 

P'"'™ itself. But leTrl ' *''^ """"• """ "- 

,.^^^,^ _ llut let me go on to your two next .,f range 

and so indeed .he well ma; - ZeZ, T "" '■"■«" = 
-n for a contemptuous sort ohL^ ^ 'T "" -''- 
nere adunco ' ; that i« t„ i , ^'""' ^^"^o contem- 
She may iaugL a Jo u in hT '"''' " """'"^ ""- 
■f «he think/fit Brnl T """ °' "'" ""^■"-nt., 

""J'nary of all exfrao2 """' '° """ '"™' -»■'- 
'0 take your and ;:tSj^°'-«'*'--- -"ioh is, 
'H'e presumption of the offe " '" '""•"'"« "' '«"• 
beyond the bounds op.l^tin"" """ '"''«"""■- 

Round and round ,^o the !^ '' '" ""^ •'^""•«'- 

-ne^oneetCrS^^lr^^'^ — 
nay dw„ „y , take, apparently cool 

"" '""'^-^ •^''-' - aii pocket the pool. 


I fret in my gizzard, yat, cautioua and sly, 

I wish all my friends may be bolder than I . lo 

Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim 

By losing their money to venture at fame. 

'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, 

'Tia in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold : 

All play their own way, and they tliink me an ass,— 1 5 

' What does Mrs. Bunbury ?' ' I, Sir ? I pass." 

' Pray what does Miss Homeck 1 take courage, come 

' Wlio, I ? let me see. Sir, why I must pass too.' 
Mr. Bunbury frets, and * fret like the devil, 
To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. jo 

Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, 
Till made by my losses as bold as a lion, 
I venture at all,— while my avarice regards 
The whole pool as my o\m— 'Come, give me five 

'Well done!' cry the ladies; 'Ah, Doctor, that's 
good! '5 

TliB pool 's very "ich— ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! ' 
Thus foil'd in my courage, or all sides perplex'd, 
I osk for advice from the lady that's next ; 
' Pray, Ma'am, be so gr->d as to give your advice ; 
Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice?' ,10 
' I advise,' cries the lady, ' to try it, I own. — 
Ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! Come, Doctor, put down.* 
Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager. 
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar. 
Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you're skill'd in, 35 
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before 
Fielding ? 



May well be call'd piekinK of pockets in law 
And piekmg of pooketM, with wh I, T n. . ' 
J;, by quinto E.i.abet,. C:lL :7,;; "^^ 
What justice, when both to the Old B«il i ■ " 

Both cove. ,,., face., .£ Zl'Z'Z^":- 
But the judge bida then,, angrily, take oZ^li, '' 

Lnd.' """'-"-''-^ey've been puieWng 
• But, pr^^y, ,ho.n have they pilfer'd > '-• A Doctor. 
■ W'hat.^yo„ solemn-faeed. odd-looking man that «tand« 

' The same.'-' What a pity ! how dne» it . *° 

Two handsomer cu) Js I nl;: tr.'^ir "'"" 
-..en^.«„ds all come round me with cringing and 

ron H T '^'"""''' **"' P''^'^"^" well H,run« ,- 
Consider, dear Doctor, the girl, an, but young'' " 
Theyour.ger the worse.' I return hi„, again 

.But'Jr.?'* """ '"•"'" "^^ "'' ''>-d ■>- grain- 
But then they're so handsome, or -'s bosom if grieves ' 
Wha^s.g„,fies W^e. when people are thieves 'I 

•What ,rr ''°"'" ^"^"'^'- '''^'^ '^'^^ -^^ ''"d.' 
What sagmfies jueticl I ^-ant the re,^arrf. 

There's the pansh of Edmonton offers fo .y pounds; 


lliero's Uieparuliuf St. Leonard. Shoreditcli, oflcrs forty 
pouiidH ; tliere 'h tlir parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in- 
thc-Puund to St. {Jilen's watchhouse, oljeni forty poundit, 
—1 ahall have all that if I convict them ! '— 

• But consider their case,— it may yet be your own ! 
And see liow they kn^el '. Is your heart made of stone ) ' 
Tills moves - so at last I agree to relent, 65 

For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be upent. 

[ challenge youall to answer this: I tell you, you cannot. 
It cuts deep ;— but now for the rest of the letter : and 
next— but I want room— so I believe T shall battle the 
rest out at Barton some day next week. 

I don't vpJue you all ! 




Abmiiw of box that »portivelv engage 

And mimic real battles in tlu rage 

Pleaded I recount; how, with glorv'n ch«rn,» 

Two ™.ghty Mon-a-h. met in advert arm. ' 

Sable and wh.te ; a^iist me to explore. 

Ye Serian Nymph«, what ne'er wa« Hung b. ,re 

No path appean. : yet resolute I stray 

Wheie youth undaunted bids me force my wav 

Oer rocks and cliffs while I the task pule ' " 

OuUe me ye Nymphs, with your unerring clue. ,o 

For you the rise of this diversion know 

You firat were pleased in Italy to show 

This studious sport; from Scacchis was its name 

The pleasing record of your Sister's fame 

When Jove through Ethiopia's parch'd extent „ 
To grace the nuptials of old Ocean went 
iach god was there; and mirth and joy' around 
To shores remote diffused their happy sound. 

Claim d their attention, and the feast was o'er; „ 
Ocean, with pastime to divert the thought 
Commands a painted table to be brought ' 
Sixty-four spaces fill the chp.uer'd square ■ 
i.ight in each rank eight equal limiu share 



Alike tlieir form, but different are their dyes, as 

They fade alternate, and alternate rise. 

White after black ; such various stains as those 

The shelving backs of tortoises disclose. 

Then to the gods that mute and wondering sate. 

You see (says he) the field prepared for fate. 30 

Here will the little armies please your sight. 

With adverse colours hurrying to the fight : 

On which so oft, with silent sweet surprise. 

The Nymphs and Nereids used to feast their eyes. 

And all the neighbours of the hoary deep, 35 

When calm the sea, and winds were luU'd asleep 

But see, the mimic heroes tread the board ; 

He said, and straightway from an urn he pour'd 

The sculptured box, that neatly seem'd to ape 

The graceful figure of a human shape : — 40 

Equal the strength and number of each foe. 

Sixteen appear'd like jet, sixteen like snow. 

As their shape varies various is the name. 

Different their posts, nor is their strength the same. 

There might you see two Kings with equal pride 45 

Gird on their arms, their Consorts by their side ; 

Here the Foot-warridrs glowing after fame, 

There prancing Knights and dexterous Archers came 

And Elephants, that on their backs sustain 

Vast towers of war, and fill and shake the plain. 50 

And now both hosts, preparing for the storm 
Of adverse battle, their encampments form. 
In the fourth space, and on the farthest line, 
Directly opposite the Monarchs shine ; 
The swarthy on white ground, on sable stands fj 
The silver King ; and thence they send commands. 


Whe " :f : ■""* *'""'- «"»"«« the right': 
Chools r* f '''^''""P«'*'-« armour known. 
Chooses the colour that is like her own. 

BenH T ^"""^ ^"=''^"' '''° th'^t «nowy.white 

J- .eir.eSri„"w:::r- -::::;- 

inese on each bMo ♦!,« in . gore;. 

j™. ^r=rrtr:?er"^- 

TheirT^ k'^'*" '" «°"*- armour ;:;. 

in either army on each distant wing * 

luiT'' "^'""'""'^ ^''""^ castles'brin,, 
Bulwarks immense! and then «.t l..f \- 
^;«Ht o. the Foot to Cl"!^ Vre"'"" 
The vanguard to the King and Queen fr , 
P^pared to open all the fate oftaT ' "" '" 
So mov^ the boxen hosts, each double-lined 
TW different colon, floating in the i"'' 

A. If an army of the Gauls should go, 
With their white standards o'«r ti,-. *i ■ 

Jo -tin rigid fighto'll^L:^^^^^^^^ 

The^.„.bumt Moors and Memnon. s..,Hy 

ceLt.?ow:L':rtr" 'z^ ''-- '-- ^° 

Wnno r-tltrZ'onrelT-^^'- 
For een these arms their stated laws oL 









Should a black hero first to battle go, 

Instant a white one guards against the blow ; 

But only one at once can charge or shun the foe. 

Their gen'ral purpose on one scheme is bent, 

So to besiege the King within the tent. 

That there remains no place by subtle flight 

From danger free ; and that decides the fight. 

Meanwhile, howe'er, the sooner to destroy 

Th' imperial Prince, remorseless they employ 

Their swords in blood ; and whosoever dare 

Oppose their vengeance, in the ruin share. 

Fate thins their camp ; the parti-coloured field 

Widens apace, as they o'ercome or yield. 

But the proud victor takes the captive's post ; loo 

There fronts the fury of th' avenging host 

One single shock : and (should he ward the blow), 

May then retire at pleasure from the foe. 

The Foot alone (so their harsh laws ordain) 

When they proceed can re'er return again. 105 

But neither all rush on alike to prove 
The terror of their arms : the Foot must move 
Directly on, and but a single square ; 
Yet may these heroes, when they first prepare 
To mix in combat on the bloody mead, no 

Double their sally, and two steps proceed ; 
But when they wound, their swords they subtly 

With aim oblique, and slanting pierce his side. 
But the great Indian beasts, whose backs sustain 
Vast turrets arm'd, when on the redd'ning plain 115 
They join in all the terror of the fight. 
Forward or backward, to the left or right, 

Run furious, and impatient of confine 

These glancing sidewards in a straight career 
wnue or black, can senrf tw ,._ ■ , 

ine path direct, and boldly wh«.lin„ 

i^et may she never with a circling course 
Sweep to the battle like the fretful Ho^e- 
« nether fnend nor foe block up the way 

For to oerleap a warrior, >tis decreed 
Those only dare who curb the snorting steed 
WUh greater caution and majestic staTe 
The warlike Monarchs in the scene of fate 

Direct their motions, since for these apptr 
Zealou „h hop,, ,„j wear 

They clasp their arms; but should a sudden turn 





■ }» 




Make him a captive, instantly they yield, 
Resolved to share his fortune in the field. 
He moves on slow ; with reverence profound 
His faithful troops encompass him around, 
And oft, to break some instant fatal scheme. 
Rush to their fates, their sov'reign to redeem ; 
While he, unanxious where to wound the foe, 
Need only shift and guard against a blow. 
But none, however, can presume t' appear 
Within his reach, but must his vengeance fear ; 
For he on ev'ry side his terror throws ; 
But when he changes from his first repose. 
Moves but one step, most awfully sedate. 
Or idly roving, or intent on fate. 
These are the sev'ral and establish'd laws : 
Now see how each maintains his bloody cause. 

Here paused the god, but (since whene'er they wage 
War here on earth the gods themselves engage 165 
In mutual battle as they hate or love. 
And the most stubborn war is oft above), 
Almighty Jove commands the circling train 
Of gods from fav'ring either to abstain. 
And let the fight be silently survey'd ; 170 

And added solemn threats if disobey'd. 
Then call'd he Phoebus from among the Powers 
And subtle Hermes, whom in softer hours 
Fair Maia bore ; youth wanton'd in their face ; 
Both in life's bloom, both shone with equal grace 
Hermes as yet had never wing'd his feet ; 
As yet Apollo in his rad- <nt seat 
Had never driv n his aariot through the air, 
Known by his bow alone and golden hair. 


These Jove commiHsion'd to attempt the frav 
And rule the sportive military day ^' 

Bid them agree which party each maintains 
And prom.sed a reward that 's worth their pains 
The greater took their seat» ; on either hand 

Respectful the less gods in order stand 
But careful not to interrupt their play 

By hmting when t' advance or run away 
To try the.r courage, and their army lead 

i^TT'u '"' '"* '^'''''- ""'* he should go 
First with a brave defiance to the foe. 

Awhile he ponder'd which of all his train 

Should bear his first commission o'er the plain • 

And then determined to begin the scene ' ' 

With h.m that stood before to guard the Queen 

He took a double step: with instant care 

Does the black Monarch in his turn prepare 

The adverse champion, and with stern command 

Bui h,m repel the chaige with equal hand. 

There front to front, the midst of all the field, . funous threats their shining arms they wield • 

Yet va.n the conflict, neither can prevail ' 

While m one path each other they assail. 

On ev ly side to their assistance fly 

Their fellow soldierB, and with strong supply 

Crowd to the battle, but no bloody stin"^"^ "^ 

Tinctures their armour ; sportive in the plain 

Mars plays awhile, and in excursion slight 

Harmless they „ally forth, or wait the fight 

But now the swarthy Foot, that fli^t appear'd 

To front the foe, his pond'rous jav'lin rear'd 


I go 







Leftward aslant, and a pale warrior slays, 

Spurns him aside, and boldly takes his place. 

Unhappy youth, his danger not to spy ! 

Instant he fell, and triumph'd but to die. ]i.s 

At this the sable King with prudent care 

Removed his station from the middle square, 

And slow retiring to the farthest ground. 

There safely lurk'd, with troops entrench'd around. 

Then from each quarter to the war advance no 

The furious Knights, and poise the trembling lance : 

By turns they rush, by turns the victors yield. 

Heaps of dead Foot choke up the crimson'd field : 

They fall unable to retreat ; around 

The clang of arms and iron hoofs resound. 335 

But while young Phoebus pleased himself to view 
His furious Knight destroy the vulgar crew. 
Sly Hermes long'd t' attempt with secret aim 
Some noble act of more exalted fame. 
For this, he inoffensive pass'd along 330 

Through ranks of Foot, and midst the trembling throng 
Sent his left Horse, that free without conine 
Rov'd o'er the plain, upon some great design 
Against the King himself. At length he stood, 
And having fix'd his station as he would, 33$ 

Threaten'd at once with instant fate the King 
And th' Indian beast that guarded the right wing. 
Apollo sigh'd, and hast'ning to relieve 
The straiten'd Monarch, griev'd tiiat he must leave 
His martial Elephant expos'd to fate, 340 

And view'd with pitying eyes his dang'rous state. 
First in his thoughts however v. as his care 
To save his King, whom to the neighbouring square 




A. .1 ■ • . . ""-"M u Willi iremt 

At this with fury spring, the «ablo Knight 
Drew hi« keen sword, and rising to the blow, 
Sent the great Indian brute to shades below. 
O fatal loss! for none except the Queen 

Yersh:,;"' " *f"" "'™"«" "-^ ^^'^y --- 

Yet shall you ne'er unpunish'd boast your prize 
ihe Delian god with stern resentment cries f ; 

And wedgd him round with Foot, and poUl 
fresh supplies. 

Thus close besieg-d trembling he cast his eye 

Around the plain, but saw no shelter nigh 

tLTJ°' "f i' = '"' '''"' ^h" «"-" oppos-d, 
The Foot m phalanx there the passage clos'd ■ 

At length he fell; yet not unpleas-dlith fate 
Since victim to a Queen's -ndictive hate. ' gnef and fury burns the whiten'd host 

One of their Tow'ra thus immaturely lost 

As when a bull has in contention stern 

Lc«t his right horn, with double vengeance burn 

H.S thoughts for war, with blood he 's cover'd olr 

And the woods echo to his dismal roar, 

So look d the flaxen host, when angry fate 

Oe«d the Indian bulwark of their state. 
Fired at this gr^at success, with double rage 
Apollo hurries on his troops t' engage 
For blood and havoc wild ; and, whii; he leads 
H.S troops thus careless, loses both his steeds • 
For If some adverse warriors wer* o'erthrown.' 

Hell tie thought what danger, threat his own. 
But slyer Hermes with observant eyes 
March d slowly cautious, and at distance spies 






What moves must next succeed, what dangers next 



anse. '7> 

Often would he, the stately Queen to snare, 
The slender Foot to front her arms prepare. 
And to conceal his scheme he sighs and feigns 
Such a wrong step would frustrate all his pains. 
Just then an Archer, from the right-Land view, 
At the pale Queen his arrow boldly drew, 
Unseen by Phcebus, who, with studious thought, 
From the left side a vulgar hero brought. 
But cender Venus, with a pitying eye, 
Vie7°Iiig the sad destruction that was nigh, 
Wink'd upon Phoebus (for the Goddess sat 
By chance directly opposite) ; at that 
Roused in an instant, young Apollo 'hrew 
His eyes around the field his troops to view : 
Perceiv'd the danger, and with sudden fright a9o\ 
Withdrew the Foot that he bvi sent to fight, I 

And sav'd his trembling '^ueen by seasonable f 

flight. ) 

But Maia's son with shouts fiU'd all the coast : 
The Queen, he cried, the important Queen is lost. 
Phoebus, howe'er, resolving to maintain igi 

What he had done, bespoke the heavenly train. 
What mighty harm, in sportive mimic flight. 
Is it to set a little blunder right. 
When no preliminary rule debarr'd ? 
If you henceforward. Mercury, would guard 300 

Against such practice, let us make the law : 
And whosoe'er shall first to battle draw, 
Or white, or black, remorseless let him go 
At all events, and dare the angry foe. 


I. » said, and thJH opinion pleased around : „, 

Jove turn'd aside, and on hi» daughter frown'd. 

Fretted and foam'd, and roll'd his ferret even 
And but with reluctance could refrain 
From dashing at a blow all off the plain 
Then he resolved to interweave deceits - 
To carry on the war by tricks and cheats 
InsUnt he call'd an Archer from the throng, 
And bid him like the courser wheel along • 
Boundmg he springs, and threats the pallid Queen. 
The fraud, however, was by Phcebus seen ; ,.« 

He smiled, and, turning to the Gods, he said • 
Though, Hermes, you are perfect in your trade 
And you can trick and cheat to great surprise, 
These httle sleights no more shall blind my eyes • 
Correct them if you please, the more you thus dis'- 



3J1 ; 

The circle laugh'd aloud ; and Maia's son 
(As if it had but by mistake been done) 
Recall'd his Archer, and with motion due 
Bid him advance, the combat to renew 
But Phoebus watch'd him with a jealous eye, 
*eanng some trick was ever lurking nigh 
For he would oft, with sudden sly design' 
Send forth at once two combatants to join 
His warring troops, against the law of arms 
Unless the wary foe was ever in aUrms 

Now the white Archer with his utmost force 
iJent the tough bow against the sable Horse 
And drove him from the Queen, where he had stood 
Hopmg to glut Us vengeance with her blood 




Then the right Elephant with martial pride 
Roved here and there, and Hproad liis terror* wide : 
Glittering in armfi from far a courser came, 
Threaten'd at once the King and Royal Dame ; 
Thought himself safe when he the post had seized, 
And with the future spoils his fancy pleased. J41 

Fired at the danger a young Archer came, 
Rush'd on the foe, and levell'd sure his aim ; 
(And though a Pawn his sword in venreanco draws, 
Gladly he'd lose his life in glory's cause). 345 

The whistling arrow to his bowels flew. 
And the sharp atoel his blood profusely drew ; 
He drops the reins, he totters to the ground. 
And his life issued murm'ring through the wound. 
Pierced by the Foot, this Archer bit the plain ; 
The Foot himself was by another slain ; 351 

And with inflamed revenge, the battle burns again. 
Towers, Art.,ers, Knights, meet on the crimson ground. 
And the field echoes to the martial sound. 
Their thoughts are heated, and their courage fired. 
Thick they rush on with double zeal inspired ; 356 
Generals and Foot, with different colour'd mien, 
Confusedly warring in the camps are seen, — 
Valour and Fortune meet in one promiscuous scene 
Now these victorious, lord it o'er the field ; 360 

Now the foe rallies, the triumphant yield : 
Just as the tide of battle ebbs or flows. 
As when the conflict more tempestuous grows 
Between the winds, with strong and boisterous sweep 
They plough th' Ionian or Atlantic deep ! 365 

By turns prevail the mutual blustering roar, 
And the big waves alternate lash the shore. 





She fell'd .„ A„her m nhe «,ught the H,i' - ' 
J"!'' :»*"*<»- Elephant wa.alai„: ' 

Burst through the ranks, and triumphM as she went • 
Through ar ,, and blood she seek. . „i ! ' 

Pierces the farthest lines/.-nrobl.^tr '"•• 
Leads on her army with a gallant show 
Breaks the battalions, and cuts through the foe 
At length the sable King his fears betf-y-d 
And begg'd his mi'itary consort's aid • cheerful speed she flew to hi. relief, 
And met m equal arms the female chief. 

How manTwr T^"' ""' ^""^ "' ''»* "'^ ^^^ ^ 
wow many Wh.tes lay gasping on the mead ? 

?^ V 'u"'"'°''""«'""Wo.<iytide, 
Foot, Kmghts. and Archer lie on every side. 
Who can recount the skughter of the day ? 
How many leaders th«,w their lives away ? 
The chequer'd plain is fill'd with dying box 
Havoc endues, and with tumultuous shocks' 
The different coloured ranks in blood engage 

With nobler courage and superior might 
The dreadful Amazons sustain the fight, 

R^olved alike to mix in glorious st4. 

liU to imperious fate they yield their life 

Meanwhile each Monarch, in a neighbourmg cell 
Confined the warriors that in battle fell * 
There watch'd the captives with a jealous eye 
Lest, slipping out again, to arms they fly ' 








But ThnciBit Mara, in iitodfBKt frirndiihip join'd 

To Hermex, an near Phosbiw he reclined, 

Obmrved eacli cliance, liow all iheir motions 

Renolved if pomible to lerve his iriend. 
He a Foot-koldier and a Knight purloin'd 
Out from the prison that t le dead confln , 
And slyly push'd 'em forward on the plain ; 
Th* enliven'd combatants their arms regain, 
..lijt in the bloody scene, and boldly war agai 

So the foul hag, in screaming wild alarms 
O'er a dead caroc^e muttering her charms, 
(And with her frequent and tremendous yell 
Forcing great Hecate from out of hell) 
Shoots in the corpse a new fictitious soul ; \ 

With instant glsre the supple eyeballs roll, [ 

Again it moves and speaks, and life informs thej 
whole. 4' 5.' 

Vulcan alone discem'd the subHe cheat ; 
And wisely scorning such a base deceit, 
Call'd out to Phoebus. Grief and rage assail 
Pha'buB by turns ; detected Mars tur.'- pale. 
Then awful Jove with su.len eye repro\ • d 4>o 

Mars, and the captives order'd to be moved 
To their dark caves ; bid each fictitious spear 
Be straight recall'd, and all be as they were. 

And now both Monarchs with redoubled rage 
Led on their Queens, the mutual wai to wage. 4J.s 

O'er all the field their thirsty spears they send, 
Then front to front their Monarchs tl -y defer.'i. 
But lo ! the female White rush'd in unseen. 
And slew with fatal haste the swarthy Queen ; 



4 JO 

V.t .won .U. ! «,ig„'d her roy.l ,poiU. 
Snatch d by . ,h.ft from her ,ucceB.ful toil.. 
Struck .t the .ight. both ho.t. in wild -urpri.* 
Pour d forth their tear., .nd flll'd the .ir^ith crie. • 

A. If both .rmi«, h«l .t once been .Uin. 

T„ J!? "rr*^'" '"^P *"'"°""''' "• "'«»'"''«« thief'; 
ro guard h« perwn. or « hiH grief. 
One u. their common fear ; one .tormy bi..t 
Has equally made havoc aa it pan'd 
Not all however, of their youth are nlain ; 

tTl^7' '" ^"'^"' "«* « "t'fly Tower, 
^or Phcebu. Htill exert their utmoet power 
Ju8t the Bame number Mercury can boant, 
txcept the Tower, who ktely in his p«.t 
Unarm d inglorious fell, in pe^ p,ofou„d 
Pierced by an Archer wi"> a distant wound ; 
But h.8 right Horse ieta,„-d its mettled pride - 
The rest were swept away by war's strong tide. 

But fretfiU Hermes, with despairing moan, 
Grievd that so many champions wer« o'erthrown. 
Yet reassumes .he fight ; and summons round 
ihe little straggling army that he found.- 
All that had -scaped tu,m fierce Apollo's rage- 
Resolved with greater caution to engage 
In future strife, by subtle wiles (if fate 
Should give him leave) to save his sinking state. 
The sable troops advance with prudence slow 
Bent on aU hazards to distress the foe 
Mo,-e cheerful Ph<Bbu», with unequal pace. 
Kalhes his arms to lessen his disgrace 







But what strange havoc everywhere has been ! 
A straggling champion here and there is seen ; 
And many are the tents, yet few are left within. 

Th' afflicted Kings bewail their consorts dead, 465 
And loathe the thoughts of a deserted bed ; 
And though each monarch studies to improve 
The tender mem'ry of his former love. 
Their state requires a second nuptial tie. 
Hence the pale ruler with a love-sick eye 47° 

Surveys th' attendants of his former wife. 
And offers one of them a royal life. 
These, when their martial mistress had been slain. 
Weak and despairing tried their arms in vain ; 
Willing, howe'er, amidst the Black to go, 475 

They thirst for speedy vengeance on the foe. 
Then he resolves to see who merits best. 
By strength and courage, the imperial vest ; 
Points out the foe, bids each with bold design 
Pierce through the ranks, and reach the deepest line : 
For none must hope with monarchs to repose 481 
But who can first, through thick surrounding foes. 
Through arms and wiles, with hazardous essay, 
Safe to the farthest quarters force their way. 
Fired at the thought, with sudden, joyful pace 485 
They hurry on ; but first of all the race 
Runs the third right-hand warrior for the prize, — 
The glitt'ring crown already charms her eyes. 
Her dear associates cheerfully give o'er 
The nuptial chase ; and swift she flies before, 490 
And Glory lent her wings, and the reward in store. 
Nor would the sable King her hopes prevent, 
For he himself was on a Queen intent. 



Alternate, therefore, through the field they go 
Hermes led on, but by a step too slow 
His fourth left Pawn : and now th' ad^ent'rous Whitl 
Had march'd through all, and gain'd the wish'd for 

Then the pleased King gives orders to prepare 
The crown, the sceptre, and the royal chair 
And owns her for his Queen : around exult 
Xhe snowy troops, and o'er the Black insult. 
Hermes burst into tear8,-with fretful roar 
*ill d the wide air, and his gay vesture tore. 
The swarthy Foot had only to advance 
One single step ; but oh - malignant chance - 
A tower'd Elephant, with fatal aim 
Stood ready to destroy her wlien she came : 
He keeps a watchful eye upon the whole 
Threatens her entrance, and protects the goal 
Meanwhile the royal new-created bride 
Pleaded with her pomp, spread death and terror wide • 
Like lightning through the sable troops she flies, ' 
Clashes her arms, and seems to threat the skies. 
Ihe sable troops are sunk in wild affright 
And wish th' earth op'ning snatch'd 'em from her sight 
In burst the Queen, with vast impetuous swing : , ' 
The trembling foes come swarming round the King ' 
Where in the midst he stood, and form a valiant ring ) 
ho the poor cows, straggling o'er pasture land. 
When they perceive the prowling wolf at hand, „o 
Crowd close together in a circle full, 
And beg the succour of the lordly bull • 
They clash their horns, they low with dreadful sound 
And the remotest groves re-echo round. 




But the bold Queen, victorious, from behind 515 
Pierces the foe ; yet chiefly she design'd 
Against the King himself some fatal aim. 
And full of war to his pavilion came. 
Now here she rush'd, now there ; and had she been 
But duly prudent, she had slipp'd between, 530 

With course oblique, into the fourth white square, 
And the long toil of war had ended there. 
The King had fallen, and all his sable state ; 
And vanquish'd Hermes cursed his partial fate. 
For thence with ease the championess might go, 535 
Murder the King, and none could ward the blow. 

With silence, Hermes, and with panting heart, 
Perceived the danger, but with subtle art, 
(Lest he should see the place) spurs on the foe, t,iq 
Confounds his thoughts, and blames his being slow. 
For shame ! move on ; would you for ever stay 1 
What sloth is this, what strange perverse delay ? — 
How could you e'er my little pausing blame ? — 
What ! you would wait till night shall end the game ? 
Phcebus, thus nettled, with imprudence slew 545 

A vulgar Pawn, but lost his nobler view. 
Young Hermes leap'd, with sudden joy elate ; 
And then, to save the monarch from his fate. 
Led on his martial Knight, who stepp'd between. 
Pleased that his charge was to oppose the Queen — 
Then, pondering how the Indian beast to slay, 551 
That stopp'd the Foot from making farther way, — 
From being made a Queen ; with slanting aim 
An archer struck him ; down the monster came. 
And dying shook the earth : while Phoebus tries 555 
Without success the monarch to surprise. 



The Foot, then uncontroU'd with instant pride. 
Seized the last spot, and moved a royal bride 
And now with equal strength both war again " 
And brmg their second wives upon the plain ; .60 
Th n^though equal views each hop'd and fear'd 
^et, as If every doubt had disappear'd. 
As If he had the palm, young Hermes flies 
Into excess of joy ; with deep disguise, ,. 

Bxtolshiso ^ Black troops, with frequent spite 
And with mvective taunts disdains the White 
Whom Phoebus thus reproved with quick return- 
yet we cannot the decision learn 
Of this dispute, and do you triumph now > 
Then your big words and vauntings I'll allow, 
When you the battle shall completely gain • 
At present I shall make your boasting vain' 
He said, and forward led the daring Queen • 
Instant the fury of the bloody scene 
Rises tumultuous, swift the warriors fly 
From either side to conquer or to die 
They front the storm of war : around 'em Pea. 
Terror, and Death, perpetually appear. 
All meet in arms, and man to man oppose. 
Each from their camp attempts to drive their foes ; 
Each tries by turns to force the hostile lines ; L 

CWe and impatience blast their best designs. 
The sable Queen spread terror as she went 

tS *'%"" ""'' '■ "'"^ """^^ ^--^"l intent 
The adverse dame declined the open fray, .0, 

And to the King i„ private stole away • 

Then took the royal guard, and bursting in. 

With fatal menace close besieged the King 




Alarm'd at this, the swarthy Queen, in haste, 
From all her havoc and destructive waste 59 

Broke off, and her contempt of death to show, 
Leap'd in between the Monarch and the foe, 
To save the King and state from this impending 


But Phoebus met a worse misfortune here : 
For Hermes now led forward, void of fear, 595 

His furious Horse into the open plain. 
That onward chafed, and pranced, and pawed amain. 
Nor ceased from his attempts until he stood 
On the long-wished-for spot, from whence he could 
Slay King or Queen. O'erwhelm'd with sudden fears, 
Apollo saw, and could not keep from tears. 6oi 

Now all seem'd ready to be overthrown ; 
His strength was wither'd, ev'ry hope was flown. 
Hermes, exulting at this great surprise. 
Shouted for joy, and fiU'd the air with cries ; 605 

Instant he sent the Queen to shades below. 
And of her spoils made a triumphant show. 
But in return, and in his mid career, 
Fell his brave Knight, beneath the Monarch's spear. 
Phoebus, however, did not yet despair, 6io 

But still fought on with courage and with care. 
He had but two poor common men to show. 
And Mars's favourite with his iv'ry bow. 
The thoughts of ruin made 'em dare their best 
To save their King, so fataUy distress'd. 615 

But the sad hour required not such an aid ; 
And Hermes breathed revenge where'er he stray'd. 
Fierce comes the sable Queen witU fatal threat. 
Surrounds the Monarch in his royal seat ; 

Rushed here and there, nor rested till nhe «lew 
The last remainder of the whiten'd crew 
Sole stood the King, the midst of all the plain 
Weak and defenceless, his companions slain 
As when the ruddy morn ascending high 
Has chased the twinkling stars from all the sky 
Your star fair Venus, still retains its light. 
And. ovehest, goes the latest out of sight 

No safety's left, no gleams of hope remain; 

^et did he not as vanquish'd quit the plain, 

Jut tried to shut himself between the foe,- «,„, 

Unhurt through swords and spea« he hoped t 

UntU no room was left to shun the fatal blow. I 

For rf none th.eaten'd his immediate fate 

And his next move must ruin all his state 

All theyast toil and labour is in vain, ' 5,,, 

Vam aU the bloody carnage of the plain - ' 

Neither wonld triumph then, the laurel neither gain ) 

Wore through each void space and 'desert 

By different moves his various course he bent : 

Th Black King watch'd him with observant eye. 6,0 

Follow d him close, but left him room to fly ' 

Then when he saw him take the farthest line 

He sent the Queen his motions to confine ' 

And guard the second rank, that he could ga 

No farther now than to that distant row 

The sable monarch then with cheerful mien 

Approa^h-d but always with one spac. between 

ButastlieKi„g«tood against hn. there. 

Helpless, forlorn, and . -, h.^ despair 






The martial Queen her lucky moment knew, 
Seized on the farthest seat with fatal view, 
Nor left th' unhappy King a place to flee unto 
At length in vengeance her keen sword she draws. 
Slew him, and ended thus the bloody cause : 
And all the gods around approved it with applause 

The victor could not from his insults keep, 
But laugh'd and sneer'd to see Apollo weep. 
Jove call'd him near, and gave him in his hand 
The powerful, happy, and mysterious wand 
By which the Shades are call'd to purer day, 
When penal fire has purged their sins away ; 
By which the guilty are condemn'd to dwell 
In the dark mansions of the deepest hell ; 
By whicl he gives us sleep, or sleep denies, 
And closes at the last the dying eyes. 
Soon after this, the heavenly victor brought 
The game on earth, and first th' Italians taught. 

For (as they say) fair Scacchis he espied 
Feeding her cygnets in the silver tide, 
(Scacchis, the loveliest Seriad of the place) 
And as she stray 'd, took her to his embrace. 
Then, to reward her for her virtue lost. 
Gave her the men and chequer'd board, emboss'd 
With gold and silver curiously inlay'd ; 
And taught her how the game was to be play'd. 
Ev'n now 'tis honour'd with her happy name ; 
And Rome and all the world admire the game. 
All which the Seriads told me heretofore. 
When my boy-notes amused the Serian shore. 









P. ijc, i.e. Hrwa,b<, PaOas. Thi. i. the u.ual account. 
But It w« maintained by the family of the poef. mother, and ha. 
been contended (by Dr. Michael F. Cox in a Lecture on 'The 
Country and Kindred of Oliver Goldamith.' publiahed in vol. I 
f^;!*!, '''*."^'"'7"f "' ">« ' National Literary Society of Ireland.' 
l»00)that hiereal birth-place was the renidence of Mr..Gold«mith'« 
parent, Smith-Hill Houae, Zlphin, Roacommon, to which .he wa, 
m the habit of paying frequent visit.. Meanwhile, in 1897. a 
window wa. placed to Ooldamith'. memory in Poi^ey Church. 
Longford,-the church of which, at the time of hi. birth, hi. 
father waa curate. 

P. X, 1. 33. his academic carter munota nuccets. 'Oliver Gold- 
.mith i« recorded on two occaaiona a. being remarkably diligent 
at Morning Lecture ; again, aa cautioned for bad answering at 
Morning and Greek Lecture. ; and finally, a. p.,t down into the 
next clam for neglect of hia .tudie. ' (Dr. Stubb.'. Hiitory ol the 
Unutertily of Dublin, 1889, p. 201 n.) 

P. xi, 1. 21. a tcratched ngnatvre upon a window-jane. This 
which i. now at Trinity College, Dublin, is here reproduced in 
facsimile. When the garret, of No. 38, Parliament Square, were 
pulled down in 1837, it wa. cut out of the window by the last 
occupant of the rooms, who broke it in the procew. (Dr J F 
Waller in CaMell's Works of Goldsmith, [1864-5], pp. xiii-xiv n ) 
P.xiii,1.23. a poor physician. Where he obtained hi. diploma is 
not known. It was certainly not at Padua (Athenaeum, July 21 
1894). At Leyden and Louvain Prior made inquiries but, in 
each case, without success. The annals of the University of 
Louvain were, however, destroyed in the revolutionary wars. 
(Prior, Life, 1837, i, pp. 171, 178). 

P.xv,1.7. declared it lobe by Ooldsmilh. Goldsmith's authorship 
of this version has now t*en placed beyond a doubt by the pub- 
lioation m facsimile of his signed receipt to Edward Dilly for 



k third ihare of * my tnnalation,' iiucli thiid aharr amounting to 
£6 13«. Ad. The receipt, which belonga to Mr. J. W. Ford of 
Enfield Old Park, is dated 'January Uth, 17S8.' (Mtmoirt oj 
a ProtttUint, tc, Dent'e edition, 1895, i, pp. zii-xviii.) 

P. zvi, 1. 9, \2,arten Arbour Court, OidBailty. This wa« a tiny 
square occupying a site now absorbed by the Hoiborn Viaduct 
and Railway Station. No. 12, where Goldsmith lived, was later 
occupied by Messrs. .Smith, Elder & Co. as a printing ofSce. 
An engraving of the Court forms the frontispiece to the European 
itatazine for January, 1803. 

P. zvil, 1. 29. or tome of hit imilalor: The proximate cause of the 
CUizin of the World, as the present writer has suggested else- 
where, may have been Horace Walpole's Letter from Xo /f o [Soho 7 ]. 
Chiiuae PhUotopher at tondon, to hit friend Lien Chi, at Peking. 
This was noticed as ' in Montesquieu's manner ' in the May issue 
of the Monthly Review for 17S7, to which Goldsmith was a con- 
tributor (Eighteenth Century Yignettet, first series, second edition, 
1897, pp. 108-9). 

P. ziz, I. 23. demoMtrable from internal evidence, e. g.— The 
references to the musical glasses (ch. iz), which were the rage in 
1761-2; and to the Auditor (ch. ziz) established by Arthur 
Murphy in June of the latter year. The sale of the Vicar is 
discussed at length in chapter vii of the editor's Lift of Oliver 
aaldamUh (' Great Writers ' series), 1888, pp. 110-21. 

P.zzii.l. 13. HarteduiithaloM. This, which to some critics has 
seemed unintelligible, rests upon the following : ' The first three 
editions, . . . resulted in a loss, and the fourth, which was not issued 
until eight [four ?] years after the firat, started with a balance 
against it of £2 16^. 6i., and it was not until that fourth edition had 
been sold that the balance came out on the right side' {A Bookseller 
of the laM Century [John Newbery] by Charles Welsh, 1 885, p. 61 ). 
The writer based his statement upon Collins's ' Publishing booli, 
account of books printed and shares therein. No. 3, 1770 to 178.5.' 

P.zzvii.l. 7. Jamet'sPr^'der. Thiswasafamouspatent panacea, 
invented by Johnson's Ijci. eld townsman. Dr. Robert James of 
the Medicinal Dictionary. It was sold by John Newbciy, and 
had an extraordinary vogue. The King dosed Princess Elizabeth 
with it J Fielding, Gray, and Cowper all swore by it. and Horace 
Walpole, who wished to try it upon Mme. du DeSand in extremia. 

«KKK.V AKHOUH CMRT, Llrri.E ...I, „a„,.;y 

-a IT A. %i:n, ,.v jSo 

NOTES ,j, 

A„oth.rLkT."' whTh hJ^"",*"' '^ri'T "■•" "«• «"«• 

Edmund Bott w« rJln . , '**"'*^ '""° '''' '''•'"'. 
una jjott. WM recently for ule at Sotheby', (July, 1906). 

IWied the ff««w of ten ™ I • ^- *''"""• *'"' '"«' P"''- 

■«oop, to Conner j ,hile to an edition of The Haunrk „i 

mer^J'" :?"«'«':'"«' having a •Memoir.' a^^S^ 
l™,!, 5 Jf^^'"'* "'""'' ■"«» 8°»« before. Next followed the 

rt^,iv .u "^^P""*^ *■"* P'»y »<» P«»»- Prefixed To 

e oirection of Bishop Percy, and usually described lu (h« 

i"-, i.«^-, by .hioh title it ia refer J^tott^eSIuln; 



not«. The next memorable edition waa that edited for the 
Aldine Series in 1831, by the Rev. John Mitford. Pr.or and 
Wright's edition in vol. iv of the Miscdlaneov, »orks, &c oi 
1837, comes after this ; then Bolton Comey's excellent Poetxcal 
Work> of 1845; and vol. i of Peter Cunningham's Works, &c 
of 1854. There are other issues of the poems, the latest of 
which is to be found in vol. ii (1885) of the complete Works. 
in five volumes, edited for Messrs. George Bell & Sons by 
J W. M. Gibbs. 

Most of the foregoing editions have been consulted for the 
following notes, but chiefly those of Mitford. Prior, Bolton 
Corney. and Cunningham. Many of the illustrations and ex- 
planations now supplied will not, however, be found ,n any of 
the sources indicated. When an elucidatory or parallel passage 
is cited, an attempt has been made, as far as possible, to g,ve 
the credit of it to the first dUcoverer. Thus, some of the illustra- 
tions in Cunningham's notes are here transferred to Pnor. some 
of Prior's to Mitford, and so forth. As regards the notes them- 
selves, care has been taken to make them full enough to obviate 
the necessity, except in rare instances, of further inv^t.gaUon. 
It is the editor's experience that references to external author,, 
ties are, as a general rule, sign-posto to routes which are seldom 

It waa on those continental wanderings which occupied 
Goldsmith between February. 17.55 and February, 1756 that 
he conceived his first idea of this, the earliest of his poems to 
which he prefixed his name; and he probably had in mind 
Addison's LeUtr from Italy to Lord Halilax. a work in which 'le 
found ' a strain of political thinking that was, at that time [170 . 
new in our poetry.' {Beauties of English Poesy, 1767, i. HI). 
From the dedicatory letter to his brother-which says expressly, 
• as a part of thU Poem was formerly written to you from 
SwitzerUnd. the whole can now, with propriety, be only inscribed 

. In this .onnexion may be recalled the dictum of Hume Muote.1 
»,„ TV BiiMwk Hill — 'Everv book should be as complete ... 
^ISe wilSlTit,.™ nd shoufd neYrrefer for anything mater.l 
toother looks' {History of Eni/land, 1802, u. 101). 



publUhed until the 19th of^Deeetj;! ,-"; T'' '"^"^"^ 
bore the date of 1765 • tZTLI \ "" "" ""*-I»8« 

of St. Paul-, Churchyard' a^ tif " 7" ^°^" ^ewbery. 

of 30 page,, was .7^ ' TJ^JT^' '"!.'''»''• * <l«"'o 
quickly followed, and a „i„th^ u "^^ '"^ '°"'"'' '^''i""" 

was i„„ed in ,74. the year JT u " " """^ ''?""««'• 
'hofi^t and theai*hSonor,;70,h ''^'''''- ««'"'- 

rSr^:^^ ------ --'riX;:r:T 

-X''seap^hr;r^:^^r;:-i.r ■•" '^« - 

'Noughts Which it contain. ^JZ: ^^^77^^ 

'■at.on ran a, foMow,: JTh"sfi™i^„V!l'' '""'■'<''' '^^^ 
(Joldsmith, M.A. By hi, most .SLT ".'"!5"'«'<1 to the Rev. Hrnry 

octavo copies which Pre«i,t Sar chL*,. . » =."«8«i that there a>e 
to Amenca with the feowfintut^ry "'""^"™- " ^aa now gone 

JO whr 'hV"p'ur '."fe'tS f To'"" "^ "'■ ««-'™'» I'obe,,. 
■fin-Is. In a parcel of pa,„pblers he c»^ """"^ 'mpo.tant literary 
printed leave, entitled TKtrt „/ |"'?,"P™«''"'"'»r of loose 
longed to TU TraveUer ; butZ^^ J J?"'i»- ^hey obviously be! 
mate.ial,'andcontaine. many Si™^ /" f"™!"^'- "narrang«^ 
etUtron. !IIr. Dobell's inira-ealfnn ^ .u \ ''T "^« <»»' of the tir^t 
« ttenonlooaeleavesVhKnen iZ%n„V •■" ""h"'" "■'"•"cri, t 
w, hout any attempt it rc-Sge^^^en?" Tb? ' ""' ""' """ P"n'«i 
but the complete solution of the nS „, J ' "u" ,""'*'" ">« •"«• k : 
f ouch in an article in the niL v ° *," '"'ni.hcd by Mr. Qudlor 
recast in his charming vohTmeFr '"■'^""ch 31. 1<K>2, ,,„" 
Pp8fl-92 He showed c™c,7sivef;That%»°'5"* 't''"*'"'. "i^, 
an early draft of The TrntS nr ntll h t '^T'^" "" '■"^rely 
sections.' What had manifestlv h. ''atkwards in fairly regular 
turning over each page a Sn had Cd .""'i""''- «o'''™i " 
cedmg page of MS. and forgot en tirel^l^'L™ the top of ,he pre- 
the series of page, were ?everS^™7sfr. """■'"'" '''"'•• Ti.n« 


this happy explanation ; whrch-MM; Q^^ll^r^"." '^"> »"<'lt<'rt 

the »H..„ J ^ . MundeMult »^„"^'iH,S'iTi'r.''.'" '!■''-•■'» 

...... .™pp^ explanation ; which— as Mr 0,,!T1«; r u .o"^* *''''<'I "•" 

the advantage of beine a ' h nmU, ■ . •J"'"" Couch points oiit—hf » 
be alm„.,t po^stulabte"* One or u j"^'Z"""!™! '" Gold.'mi.h „ 
•hnd --variations, it sho^d be added l^, ""'"i™" "' Mr. Dobell's 
-are noted in their place. " "'>'«^«'™t lo the first edition 



of TKt Cilizm of Ihe World, 1762, i. 185 :-' Every mind seems 
capable of entertaining a certain quantity of happiness, which 
no institutions can encrease, no circumstances alter, and entirely 
independent on fortune.' But the best short description of the 
poem is Macaulay's :— ' In the TravdUr the execution, though 
deserving of much praise, is far inferior to the design. No 
philosophical poem, ancient or modem, has a plan so noble, 
and at the same time so simple. An English wanderer, seated 
on a crag among the Alps, near the point where three great 
countries meet, looks down on the boundless prospect, reviews 
his long pilgrimage, recalU the varieties of scenery, of climate, 
of government, of religion, of national character, which he has 
observed, and comes to the conclusion, just or unjust, that our 
happiness depends little on political institutions, and much on 
the temper and regulation of our own minds.' (Encyclop. 
Britannica, Goldsmith, February, 1856.) 

The only definite record of payment for The Travdler is 
'Copy of the Traveller, a Poenv 2U,' in Newbery's MSS. ; 
but aa the same sum occurs in Memoranda of much later date 
than 1764, it is possible that the success of the book may have 
prompted some supplementary fee. 

A Prospect, i. e. ' a view.' ' I went to Putney, and other places 
on the Thames, to take prospect) in crayon, to carry into France, 
where 1 thought to have them engraved ' (Evelyn, Diary. 20th 
June, 1 649). And Reynolds uses the word of Claude in his Fourth 
Discourse:— 'His pictures are a composition of the various 
draughts which he had previously made from various beautiful 
scenes and prospects' {Works, by Malone, 1798, i. 105). The 
word is common on old prints, e.g. An Exact Prospect ot the 
Magnificent Stone Bridge at Westminster, &c., 1751. 

Dedication. The Rev. Henry Goldsmith, says the Percy 
Memoir, 1801, p. 3, ' had distinguished himself both at school 
and at college, but he unfortunately married at the early age of 
nineteen; which confined him to a Curacy, and prevented his 
rising to preferment in the church.' 

1. 10. with an income of forty pounds a year. Ct. The Deserted 
rUlage, 11. 141-2 :— 

A man he was, to all the country dear. 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year. 



'I rt" notZ;rto » in^r^' '° '•«/P"*«°' C«'"'e. 1772:- 
«d work foTrbout fiftjn ^i* " '"'™*'' »" "y "fe-time, 

« year • (bkv . ckzv f 0"^" ^^^ " '"""'y''™ P<»«0^ 

chapter ii ai^ «r Bu ft°f'" ""Vr^r "'™' "^ '^~^«'<'. 
who he 8av. »? *"' P*""^' " »•>« "«»« of Churchill 

inthe«en^«^J7j,-;j;^ J^-.Ba„m 

and hardships of the ' inferior clergy " ' ""^ °""™ 

of ambition, as tto^aj^nr '°"'"™=- »»» of all kinds 

Which pn„.es jz z:": z'^z^"^^^^ r 

encreased refinement of the ti , r.H . ' ""^ ""^ 

ments produced by opposing sv ' , '""^ "' ^'"'S- 

more prevalent dfvisfC "f oni, « T' ""'* '"■" "«= 

atrongestandhappiestXlr e;:;:tt£sete'^' ''■^ 
narrow circle. Thnnoh »>,„ » piease but m a very 

imperial archer ^XZ':L'Z.rjZ:l "' "'" " '^^ 
the heart ; vet wouW m.„ Tu T^'™ ">at he never missed 

Our arts are sisters, though not twins in birth ; 

But oh the pamter muse, though last in place 
H- --1 the blessing fi.t. like Jacob's C' 

HLl<Lr '"""■ ""'■ '"-^ ''-' - ^-<J Burke in 
Too, born for the Universe, narrow'd his mind. 
And to party gave up what „as meant for maiiind. 



1. 41. Such reader) gmeraUy admire, &o. ' I suppose this 
paragraph to be directed against Paul Whitehead, or Churchill,' 
writes Mitford. It was clearly aimed at Churchill, since Prior 
{Life, 1837, ii. 54) quotes a portion of a contemporary article in 
the St. Janut'a Chronicle for February 7-9, 1765, attributed to 
Bonnell Thornton, which leaves little room for doubt upon the 
question. ' The la.ter part of this paragraph,' says the writer, 
referring to the passage now annotated, ' we cannot help con- 
sidering as a reflection on the memory of the late Mr. Churchill, 
whose talents as a poet were so greatly and so deservedly 
admired, that during his short reign, his merit in great measure 
eclipsed that of others ; and we think it no mean acknowledg- 
ment of the encellencies of this poem [The Traveller] to say that, 
like the stars, they appear the more brilliant now that the sun 
of our poetry is gone down.' Churchill died on the 4th of 
November, 1764, some weeks before the publication of The 
Traveller. His powers, it may be, were misdirected and mis- 
applied ; but his rough vigour and his manly verse deserved 
a better fate at Goldsmith's hands. 
I. 44. tawdry was added in the sixth edition of 1770. 
1. 47. Want verse. Cf. The PreanU State of Polite Learning, 
1759, p. 150—' From a desire in the critic of grafting the spirit 
of ancient languages upon the English, has proceeded of late 
several disagreeable instances of pedantry. Among the number, 
I think we may reckon blanh verse. Nothing but the greatest 
sublimity of subject can render such a measure pleading ; how- 
ever, we now see it used on the most trivial occasions ' — by 
which last remark Goldsmith probably, as Cunningham thinks, 
intended to refer to the efforts of Akenside, Dyer, and Armstrong. 
His views upon blank verse were shared by Johnson and Gray. 
At the date of the present dedication, the latest offender in this 
way had been Goldsmith's old colleague on The Monthly Review, 
Dr. James Grainger, author of The Sugar Cane, which was pub- 
lished in June, 1764. (Cf. also The Bee for 24th November, 1759, 
' An Account of the Augustan Age of EngUnd.') 

I. 52. and that this principle, &c. Jn the first edition 
this read— 'and that this principle in each state, and in 
our own in particular, may be carried to a mischievous 

NOTES ,87 

edition mTl 7,""'^"'' '"u""''"'"- """'• »'''"'"1 (Aldine 
tdition, 1831, p. 7) compare, the following line» from Ovid :_ 

Solus, inop., e«pe«, leto pocnaeque relictus. 

Uttamorphotu, xiv. 217. 
Exsul, inops BFTM. alienaque limina lustreg, 4c. 

/6w. 1!3. 
r.n,-!^""':,^ Well-known passage from Boswell must here be 
reproduced :--Ch«mier once asked him [Goldsmith! whit h! 
meant by .lou,, the last wo„l in the first Hne of "le wl. 

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. 
Did he mean tardiness of loco-otion y Goldsmith who would 
say something without consideration, answered "Yes "1 
[Johnson] was 8 tting by, and said " K^ a- '««• » 

Urdiness of locomotfon^ ^u Zl. tt si g^:hnt":; ^L" 
which comes upon a man in solitude." Chamfe M ved Then 

nowever, that Goldsmith meant no more than he said. 

character for inhospitality.' ' ^' "*""'* "» 

/J'.L^°"""^*"„ ' ^"♦''"'^<^'' »«y» Bolton Comey, ■ to denote 
i« mmpa^ rf. R^. jh, ;„„ ^^ .^ extends from 

Rome to Terracina is scarcely habitable ' 

,1. . , " "». i<o.i, 1. o :— ^e farther I travel I fpol 
the pam of separation with stronger force. tho« ties that Jrd 
me to my native country, and you, are still unbroken. By evTry 

pomts out, Cibber has a similar thought in his Comical lovers 
1707, Act V :_ When I am with Horimel, it [my heart] taatm 
your pnsoner, it mly draw, a longer chain after /• A^ . 
still in D-yden-s AU for love, leTAtT^C^ 1 :- " 

My life on 't, he still drags a chain along. 

Ihat needs must clog his flight 

'^^".:!'^:Zf£:ZZ^- 'nthefirsteditionthisread 


1.22. the luxury of doing good. Prior compftres Garth'» Ctore- 
mont, 1716, where he apeaks of the Druid» !— 

Hard was their Lodging, homely waa their Food, 
For all their Luxury waa doing Good. 
1. 24. my prime of life. He was seven-and-twenty when he 
landed at Dover in February, 1756. 

1. 27. That, like the circle bounding, &c. Cf. Vicar of Wakefield, 
1766, ii. 160-1 (ch. x) :— ' Death, the only friend of the wretched, 
for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the view, and 
like his horizon, still flics before him.' [Prior.] 

1. 30. And find no tp* of all the world my own. Prior com- 
pares his namesake's lines In Ike Beginning of [Jacques] Robbe'i 
Oeography, 1700 :— 

My destin'd Miles I shall have gone. 

By Thames or Maese, by Po or Rhone, 

And found no Foot of Earth my own. 

above the Harm's career. Cf. 1. 190 of The Deserted 





should thanldeaa pride repine f First edition, 
thankless to repine.' 
1. 39. Say, should the phUcsophic mind, &o. First edition :— 
'Twere affectation all, and school-taught pride. 
To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply'd. 
1. 58. hoard. ' Sum ' in the first edition. 
1. 66. Boldly proclaims thai happiest spot his own. In the first 
version this was— 

Boldly asserts that country for his own. 
1. 76. And yet, perhaps, &c. In the first edition, for this and 
the following five lines appeared these eight :— 

And yet, perhaps, if states with states we scan. 
Or estimate their bliss on Reason's plan, 
Though patriots flatter, and though fools contend, 
Wc still shall find uncertainty suspend ; 
Find that each good, by Art or Nature given. 
To these or those, but makes the balance even : 
Find that the bliss of all is much the same, 
.\nd patriotic boasting reason's shame ! 

NOTES ,g^ 

i. 84. ■ On /dra's cliffM UnU /' 
»mith meant ' Wria. a "to^t'c^™? ^njectu™ th.t UulU. 

(-Mr. J. H. LobbanHJ^ plT ? «'"' """" ""^ »» here ' 
Line. 84-5, it may be adtn * "' ""''''»"'*- 1800. p. 87) 

I. WH. peculiar, i. e. ' nrorwp • ' .„„ 
'" thc»e '«ea.bor„ galea -^ .hJT"!; "''""' Evelyn refe« 
flowera f™m the rivir„f «e " ^°'""'"^^'"<""'«'°■■*'>8- 
leagues off at »ea; or ZZ^kT tj;''""'" "' ^l"'"' """•^ 
flow from Fontenay and vTu« m,^ ""'' """t"""' *'""' ^h-i- 
of ro»e», with the eon.Z "e^™"*; "T" '° ^""^ - '^e «-on 
from other aceidenls, will ea"w . ''"" "'""""K ■"""H" 

the planting of ^...iJl^l:^r'''. -^'^^ ' ™«g™t [i.e. 
1825, p. 208.) * ™^- (^wrf'oneow »'ri«iiiy,, 

1. 13a J.K, ™«re unueaiy, 4e. In the «r»t edition - 

immediately begin to ebb Th " ■""'"" ''"S'"- *ould 

»houldbeleftalmoatdry but her ™'""""' "» ""> «•""•"«!» 
rising a second time to any e„„ 7" ^,° '""'""'^ °' "«' ""<'•'' 
nation •(fl„„p)i,ycl,l. I?," "Ir'''*, "■«" '" "■« »ame 
to Dr. Lewis). " '"'' "' ^^- I*'ter of Mr. Bramble 

II. HI -2 are not in the «r»t edition. 

those bodies bloated with di». u ."**'" "■'«'»''l«l one of 

of it. wretehednesr! [MitflJ' """^ '"*"' '^ ""'y " "^-Ptom ' 


I. 145. Yet atiU the low. &c. In the «ret edition ;— 
Yet, though to fortune lout, here atill abide 
Some splendid art«, the wreckn of former pride. 
I 150. The paatt-bottrd «riumpA and the cavaleadt. ' Happy 
Country [he a speaking of Italy], where the paatoral age begin, 
to revive ! Where the wite even of Rome are united mto a 
rural groupe of nymphs and swains, under the appellation of 
modem Areadians (i. e. the Bolognese Academy of the Arcad.l 
Where in the midst of porticos, processions, and cavalcades, 
abbis turn'd into shepherds, and shepherdesses without sheep, 
indulge their innocent divertimentV {Present State of PMe 
Learning, 1769, pp. 50-1.) Some of the ' paste-board triumphs 
may be studied in the plates of Jacques Callot. 

1 153 By iporli like Oieie, &o. A pretty and well-known 
story is told with regard to this couplet. Calling once on Gold- 
smith, Reynolds, having vainly tried to attract attention, entered 
unamnunced. 'His friend was at hU desk, but with hand 
uplifted, and a look directed to another part of the room ; where 
a little dog sat with difficulty on his haunches, looking implor- 
ingly at his teacher, whose rebuke for toppling over he had 
evidently just received. Reynolds advanced, and la.ked past 
Goldsmith's shoulder at the writing on hU desk. It seemed to 
be some portions of a poem ; and looking more closely, he was 
able to read a couplet which had been that instant written. 
The ink of the second line was wet :— 

By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd ; 
The sports of children satisfy the child. 

(Forster's ii/e, 1871, i. pp. 347-8). 
1. 154. The eporta of children. This line, in the first edition, 

was followed by :— 

At sports like these, while foreign arms advance. 
In passive euse they leave the world to chance. 
1. 155. Each nobler aim, &c. The first edition reads :— 
When struggling Virtue sinks by long controul. 
She leaves at last, or feebly mans the soul. 

This was changed in the second, third, fourth, and fifth editions 





They parted with a thou.ant' kimes 
And fight e'er since for pay. like Swisws. 

I I8fl Thi. « . '^"y'' ^yand Xo, a Fable. 
•■ ISO. ibu fine use of ' brcasta '— «. p., ■ u 

-p^venhy Johnson aa anTCp.e" h:^:,^'"" "'" 
I. 187. W,th patim angle traU. the finny deep -T „1| • i 

...'a. iC •wa7hHl^"rer.Z.^XrV^3«'^'- 
a parallel to ' finny deep.' ^^ ' ^*'' " 

1- 190 the struggling mvage. i.e. wolf or bear M;n,.r^ 
pares the foUowim, — ' He i« » iw. V . "* ''°°- 

should make use rf as maL .» . °' P"^' "'«' '''^ '""•« 

drive the r.«.Lf Z^l'to' 2^.:^ 'as'th" Th" '""^ '" 
they hunt the hvena nit},7Z 7 *■* ''"'"'™ *'■«'" 

"«2. i. n., LTaL" pS'frrBk: .t^'ir •" **' •^-«- 

But If the rn^e turns his glaring eye, 
Tley howl aloof, and round the forest fly. 

a means of pleasure, in th; Lf s'i" ."^""^ """ "'■" •«--» 
GoufmUh'^irj'l'lot^t'' '''^'"' «" »"' '- P'obably 

in that whi;^n.roJ:iy ^rsrz::''": """^- """ -' 

oee also Tom 7one», iv, 94 and 220-W "m. • "'^•"'"ng. 
out but the most lomst «t >ff . . "^ " "°"""8 """"'s 



She «/-«p- IV Conq»tr. 1773 (Act i); while tir«v» (.>p.r. »«1 
Uuixule. 1772. bk. i. ch. vi) give the fwhion the "cientiHc 
appellation of ' tapiiw-pAoiy.' which he deHne. « a dread of 
everything that i« low. either in writing or in convcmation. 
To Goldsmith, if we may truat George Cclman'. Prologue '.oiiuo 
Lee'. Chapter «/ Accidents. 1780, belong, the credit of cxorcwing 
thi> particular form of depreciation :— 

When Fielding, Humour', fav'rite child, appear'd. 
Low wa. the word-a word each author fear'd ! 
Till chaa'd at length, by pleawntry'. bright ray, 
Nature and mirth resum'd their legal away ; 
And Goldsmith', genius bask'd in open day. 
According to Borrow'. Lavengro. cb. xU. Lord Chosterbeld con- 
.idered that the .petches of Homer', heroe. were frequently 

'exceedingly low.' j- . i., 

1 243 How oftfn. . . Thi. and the lines which immediately 
follow are autobioni-phical. Cf. George Primrose', atory m 
The near of Wakefield. 176«, ii. 'W-S (ch. i) :-' I pawed among 
the harmless peasante of Flanders, and among such of the French 
as were poor enough to be very merry ; for I ever found them 
sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I approached 
a pLanf. house towards nigbt-fall, I played one of my mo. 
merry tunes, and that procured me not only a lodging, but 
subsistence for the next day.' 

1 253 aettk lore, i. e. traditional gestures or motions, hoott 
uses the word 'gestic' in PevtrH o) the Peak, ch. «x, where 
King Charles the Second witnesses the dancmg of Fenella:- 
'He bore time to her motions with the movement of his foot 
-applauded with head and with hand-and seemed, l*e her 
self, carried away by the enthusiasm of the ge»tU art. [Hales.] 
1.256. Thut idly bu»y rolls their world away. Vopc has Life s 
idle business' (Untortunate Lady. 1. 81), and— 

The busy, idle blockheads of the ball. 

Donne's Satires, iv. 1. 203. 

1 264. And aU are taught an auorice of praise. Professor 
Hales (Lunger English Poems) compares Horace of the Greeks :- 
Practcr laudem, nullius avaria. 

Ars Poetica. 1. 324. 



tail • in «».•„, ..,,u WorU. 1762 H 60 ^"' """'' 

gates.' ' ■ ""' rampir'd 

l'' m '72 '/r,'" •'"'/'■' "*"'■''" "" ' l-™" obtain.' 
1.308. Evtn hUrty u,d/ i, barter'd h,„. 'Sl.venr' ..« 

.K'^r; '"™"'"' '" "°"'""'^ '•""'-' -re «,ldT 
tdeirpirents for a certain number of years' ^ 

n62!u47 **'"^«""*'v of r*«ci«««.o/«».irorfrf, 

I. 310. dMmourMt grav,,. Jul!,,, Catnnr, Act i. Sc. 2. 

^m a -nuseript /..„.:r'.'^.X7n:,:„^^^^ 
ITor:- How unlike the brave peasant, their ancestors whl 

r^-'"?:.'"*" "f" '"'"''• ■»" '"™y' d^Iar^Temserve 

1. 320 favud Hydaspe,, i. e. the lahvlo>u, Hydaapt, of Honice 

r^- T^i'^'r^ -"" h- ei-H-e riTn-jr 

W^!^hi."'"pKo"hatet'''"'^ ""'' P"^' "' ">» 
Publ2edintheto4^'j?4;;,,t;i7,i^.7. """"i" '-"'.were 



1. 343. Hnt fcy On bnndt of nature Itthly hM. In the tint 

Sw. though by circling deep* together held. 

I. .T49. Nalurt't <tu wm tociat hoHdt in the ftr»t edition. 

1. n."*. Whert Unft >Mrt loiFd, and pottn m<4t fnr lame. In 
the first edition thin line read :— 

And monarchu toil, »nd poetii pant (or fame. 

1. 361. Ya Ihink not, 4c. ' In the things I have hitherto 
written I have neither allured the vanity o( the great by Hattery, 
nor satiified the malignity oi the vulgar by scandal, but I have 
endeavoured to get an honett repuUlion by liberal puriuiU." 
(Preface to Enjlieh Hittory.) [Mitford.] 

1. 363. Yt fowert of trM, 4c. The fint version ha» :— 
Perish the wish ; for, inly satisfy'd. 
Above their pomps I hold my ragged pride. 
Mr. Forstcr thinks (Life, 1871. 1. 378) that Cldsmith altered 
this (i.e. 'ragged pride') because, like the omitted ' Havi in- 
experlui loquor' of the Enquiry, it Involved an undigniBed 

11. 36S-80 are not in the first edition. 

1. 382. Contracting regal power to stretch Aeir own. ' It is the 
interest of the great, therefore, to diminish kingly power as much 
as possible ; because whatever they take from it is naturally 
restored to themselves ; and all they have to do in a state, is 
to undermine the single tyrant, by which they resume their 
primaeval authority.' {Vicar of Wakefield. 1766, i. 202, ch. 


I. 383. When I behold, 4o. Prior compares a pasaage m 
Letter xlix of The Citizen of the World, 1762, i. 218, where the 
Roman senators are spoken of as still flattering the people ' with 
a shew of freedom, while themselves only were free.' 

1. 386. Laws grind the poor, and rich m«n rule the law. Prior 
notes a corresponding utterance in The Vicar of Wake/ield, 1766, 
i. 206, ch. xix :—' What they may then expect, may be seen 
by turning our eyes to Holland, Genoa, or Venice, where the 
laws govern the poor, and the rich go . im the law.' 

I. 392. / fly from petty tyrants to the throne. Cf. Dr. Primrose. 
ut tupra, p. 201 :— ' The generality of mankind also are of my 


Nor «„ed up.,.ru fc^^ue ,„ „b the re.l™ . . . 

B., to one, „d be th.t one . King 
11- 393-4. auld.mith'.flr.t thought w..- 

m.en7 '""■•'brother, curwd be .h.t hour 

When hr.t ambition toii'd for foreign power - 
»n entirely different couplet to that in th„ . . J 
"or. logieal. (Dob,,,.. Ao^!, 'J 'Zv J I^' '"' """"'^ 


Cwego'. dreary .hores »hal, be my grave 


tion of 175.-^ an „, .n. „fKu ^ .."''" '"•''"^'' «P««- 
Am Son, 1764, ii. 202-4 ' '^"""noB to 

a de^ly Zf "** """'''""" "'"'• '^ «"« «"« edition • take, 

neitr,..C"f.^;,?,i;;,"" "■" ^•'"'™ -"•'»-" '" "■« 

wi ^^rriS" T'cuired' r 'it'- '-• ^'" «-• -•»" 

And faintly fainter, fainter seems to go 
(Dobell'a Protpect „/ Society, 1902, p 3) 
1.429. Ho.>^.olaU.^o. .Johnson wrote the. concluding 


ten line, with the exception of the penultimate couplet. They and 
line 420 were all-he told Bo8well-of which he could be 8Ure 
(Birkbeck Hill'B Bowdl. «« «upra). Like Goldsmith, he some- 
times worked his prose ideas into his verse. The first couplet 
is apparently a reminUcence of a passage in h.s own Ra^ela,, 
1759 ii. 112, where the astronomer speaks of ' the task of a 
king' . . who has the care only of a few miUionB, to whom he 
cannot do much good or harm.' (Grant's John«m, 1887, p. 89.) 
•I would not give half a guinea to live under on«J»™ 
of government rather than another,' he told that v.le Whig. 
Sir Adam Fergusson, in 1772. ' It is of no moment to the happi- 
ness of an indfvidual ' (Birkbeck Hill's Bo«^. 1887, h. 170). 
1. 435. Tht lilted axe. Mitford here recalls Blackmore s 
Some the sharp axe, and some the painful wheel. 
The 'lifted axe' he also traces to Young and Blackmore. irith 
both of whom Goldsmith seems to have been familiar; but it is 
surely not necessary to assume that he borrowed from either m 

*"; '^Tuke's iron crown. George and Luke Dosa, or Doscha, 
headed a rebellion in Hungary in 1513. The former was pro- 
claimed king by the peasants; and, '» ^^l"*""* ™"^„^' 
among other things, the torture of the red-hot iron crown. Such 
a punishment took place at Bordeaux when Montaigne was seven- 
teen (Morley's Florio's Montaigne. 1886, p. xvi). Much ink has 
been shed over Goldsmith's lapse of ' Luke 'for George. In he 
book which he cited as his authority, the family name of the 
brothers was given as Zeck.-hence B°lt<>° ^™y;. '" ""^ 
edition of tha Poetical Works, 1845, p. 36, corrected the bne to- 

Zeck's iron crown, &o., 
an alteration which has been adopted by other editors. (See 
also Forster's Lite. 1871, i. 370.) _ 

Bom.W bed of ded. Robert-Fran?o.s Damiens. 1714-57. 
Goldsmith writes ' Damien's.' In the QenUman's Afaja«ne o 
1757, vol. xxvii. pp. 87 and 151, where there is an account 
of this poor half-witted wretch's torture »»<• '"""''O" ^' 
attempting to a^ea^inate I^uis XV, the name ,s thus spelkd 
as also in other contemporary records and caricatures. The 
blowing passage explains the 'bed of steel ':-' Being con- 

XOTES j^. 

With ch.i„; TheX^ • '"'' *" ""'• '"' ™« '""toned 

orfered to atteXX""!,:" '«»''• W'ied. and a physician 

Gold.mith'8 own expSnati™, . J ' ' '"• "''• ^- « «v.) 

misunderstood him. or Gold™ H, T „^'=* ^'»'"» °>»y have 
the faets. (See Foster's ^r^'g^rTtir.!'''™ '"«°"- 
the jlfo^y ^e«>«, for July 7,,: '5",' ,'"'??• ''"-^S of 
at this date employed) is a u Jmli!"^, "^ Goldsmith was 
at Paris/ of the oSl reTjofThe n"'"''".''"'*'''""''™' 
12mo.; andhisdeedandTSymlbtarT T""' " ^'"»- 
remarkable Strange Adt^urfT^TZ^ ^^^"' "''»?*«'■ '" the 
Augustus Sala. llsf "HH^ 1^"" '^'^"'""- ''^ «*°'8^ 
^.^^^ «a In the first edition of THe Tra^„ .he« a,, only 4I« 


t.ot'rr^^,XerdVirfir°""*^ - - "-•»- 

•770 ■. It was rece^ tf appearance on May 26. 

-cond. third "„d ft :^e2l7,f r""'""- ^" J"- » 
was published. TheZ tT^ f' *"" '" ^"«"« » "th 

which was considlbjLw^^'^'V '"'*'''' '°"''' «''«™- 

three »«««. (TraJher S^,L" '•''T' !''"•"'«•"'»»« Wle^^sfof 

ostensibly pri;.L^"^v'"^„?s™«2•o'r^"l^•«^ '7^^^^^^^^^ 

street Strand.' He rightly dScriLth^r'"'?™''' '" O-therine- 
graphical puziU.' ThlyTfforf II • T ""tence as -a biblio- 
mentioned by the earlv «li*n™ . ""PO'tant variations: are not 
which the P^m r,^t'°id;eXra''„''rr'"'^ "fj™ "-^ '"■»'" 

a quarto. B|,t thev ar^ no.„. n T '"'' ""Vlewwl, ap this woa 
the l«'-a.lonel &:o?„'„7"y °';"tcr« to the ™l,eo „ ; I^d 

one Of the. in the MKr^:^:^ .C^ Sf S'fx^Sl-Si,:'-'''-'' 


Much tesearoh bos been expended in the endeavour to identify 
tbe scene witb Lissoy, tbe home of the poet's youth (see iMro- 
auction, p. ix) ; but the result baa only been partially successful. 
The truth seems that Goldsmith, living in England, recalled in 
a poem that was English in its conception many of the memories 
and accessories of his early life in Ireland, without intending or 
even caring to draw an exact picture. Hence, aa Lord Maoaulay 
has observed, in a much criticized and characteristic passage, 
' it is made up of incongruous parts. Tbe village in its happy 
days U a true English village. The village in ite decay is an 
Irish village. The felicity and tbe misery which Goldsmith 
has brought close together belong to two different countries, 
and to two different stages in the progress of society. He 
bad assuredly never seen in bis native island such a rural 
paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity, as bis 
" Auburn." He bad assuredly never seen in England all the 
inhabitants of such e) paradise turned out of their homes in one 
day and forced to emigrate in a body to America. The hamlet 
he had probably seen in Kent ; tbe ejectment be bad probably 
seen in Munster ; but, by joining the two, he has produced 
something which never was and never will be seen in any part 
of tbe world.' (Eneydop. Britannica, 1856.) It is obvious also 
that in some of bis theories— the depopulation of the kingdom, 
for example— Goldsmith was mistaken. But it was not for its 
didactic qualities then, nor is it for them now, that The Deserted 
Vaiage delighted and delights. It maintains its popularity by 
its charming yenrc-pictures, its sweet and tender passages, ita 
simplicity, its sympathetic bold upon the enduring in human 
nature. To test it solely with a view to establish its topo- 
graphical accuracy, or to insist too much upon the value of its 
ethical teaching, is to mistake its real mission as a work of art. 
Dedication, 1. 3. / am ignorant of that art in which you art 
taid to excd. This modest confession did not prevent Gold- 
smith from making fun of the contemporary connoisseur. See the 
letter from tbe young virtuoso in The Citizen of (he World, 1762, 
i. 145, announcing that a famous ' torse ' has been discovered 
to be not ' a Cleopatra bathing ' but ' a Hercules spinning ' ; 
and Charies Primrose's experiences at Paris {Vicar of Wakefield, 
1766, ii. 27-8). 




Urged it with the following verees • (TiTwT: "* ™- 

Work,, at end.) ' ^" " ^"''«^'" "» Addison's 

1- 28. Me increase of our tuxuri,. •n. •■ . . 

Gcidl^ito^lrThis^rx^'Bl*"- "; '^- »^ ">»' 

Which PH» thin,, .a, c:i^^::^t'::^z^-^^-^^^' 

GJldltitrt'stlTraTKi.lJ"' "w" ^^'^^ S'-"- Henr, 

Whom b^hrr^M^xr: .hriiTr^j"^. "■•' 

canying pieces of it aCtot'i,^: inrto^T '" T""' 
of the bard, and of the celebrity T^nl^y^-.EZ '" ^TJ 

but nevertheless 'T^ ^r^:^ f^;.?::";:^ I'.r ' 

in« of the tr. by S. Ai^e^, f.. f LS^lUf-S Zt 


found at p. 41 of Goldsmith'. PotKcal WorU. R. H. NeweU'. 
edition, 1811, and is reproduced in the present volume. 

1. IS. How often havt I bU»»'d (he eoming day. Pnor, Ufe, 
1837, ii. 261, 6nds in this an allusion ' to the Sundays or numerous 
holidays, usually kept in Roman Catholic countries.' 

1 37 Amidst thy hoieert (he tyrant'i hand u teen. Strean s 
explanation (Mangin, itf >upra. pp. UO-1) of this is a. follows :- 
' The poem of The Deserted Village, took its ongin from the 
circumstance of general Robert Napper [Napier or Naper], (the 
grandfather of the gentleman who now [1807] lives in the hou-c, 
within half a mile of Lissoy, and built by the general) havmg 
purchased an extensive tract of the country surrounding Lissoy. 
or Auburn ; in consequence of which many families, here called 
cottiers, were removed, to make room for the intended improve- 
ments of what was now to become the wide domain of a nch 
man, warm with the idea of changing the face of his new acquisi- 
tion ; and were forced. " uM, fainiing steps." to go in search of 
" torrid tracts "md"iislarU dimes."' „ ,^ ... 

Prior {Lite, 1837, i. 40-3) pointe out that Goldsmith was not 
the first to give poetical expression to the wrongs of the dis- 
possessed Irish peasantry ; and he quotes a long extract from 
the ITort. (1741) of a Westmeath poet, lawrence Whyte, which 
rnntains such passages as these :— 

Their native soil were forced to quit. 
So Irish landlords thought it fit ; 
Who without ceremony or rout. 
For their improvements tum'd them out . . . 
How many villages they razed. 
How many parishes laid waste . . . 
Whole colonies, to shun the fate 
Of being oppress'd at such a rate. 
By tyrants who still raise their rent, 
Sail'd to the Western Continent. 
1 44 The hoUoa-sounding bittern guards iUnest. 'Of all those 
sounds,' says Goldsmith, speaking of the cries of waterfowl. 
■ there is none so dismally hollow as the booming of the bittern. 
' I remember in the place where I was a boy with what 
"teWor this bird's note affected the whole village; they con- 





duri!i t K. '^'^8 '"''" *«'•' "» bittern n„k« 

retreat.. Cf. al<o that clow ob«rver Crabb. m. nT l 
Letter xxii, II. 197-8):- ""«"" """be (Tht Borough. 

And the loud bittern, from the buU-rush home, 
Gave from the wlt-ditch side the bellowing boom. 
1. S3. Princts and lord, may fiouruh. or may fade ■ 
A breath can makt than, a, a breath ha, made. 
Mitford comparcB Con/euio AmaMi,, fol. 1S2._ 

A kynge may make a lorde a knave, 
And of a knave a lord alto • 

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings 

, C'est un verre qui luit 

Qu un souffle pent ditruire, et qu'un souffle a ptoduit. 
1- S7. A time there wu, ere England^, grieU beaan H-» 
wherever the locality of Auburn, the author rad'cleal^^iT^ 
in mmd. A caustic commentator has observed tl,»t tL ' .• . 
indicated must have been a long whik^o '""' 

■ ™ T!r"- ^ "" ^"* '^'''"' the woM is • luxury.' 
1. 7». And, many a year elapied, return to view. ' It U 

retu^J^t' ■;; '^I!^"'" '"" "P°° "x- ContinentTEurei 
returned to and resided in the viUage some time. . It i«Z»' 

Dy tfle Kev. R. H. Newell, 1811, p. 74.) 



NolwithaUnding the above, there i» no evidence that Oo'A- 
•mith ever returned to hit n»tive uUnd. In a letter to his 
brother-in-l»w, Daniel Hodiion, written in 1788, he (poke of 
hoping to do ao ' in live or nx ye»n.' {Percy Memoir, 1801, 
i. 49). But in mother letter, written toward* the cIom o( his 
life, it ii iitill a thing to come. ' I am again,' he laya, ' jiut letting 
out for P th, and I honeetly Bay I had much rather it had 
been fc. .reland with my nephew, but that pleasure I hope to 
have before I die.' (Letter to Daniel Hodaon, no date, in poaaea- 
aion of the late Frederick Locker Lampaon.) 

I. 80. Where once Ihe coUafe stood, <Ae hauihom grew. Hero 
followed, in the first edition :— 

Here, a* with doubtful, pensive atepa I range. 
Trace every aoene, and wonder at the change. 
Remembrance, &c. 
I. 84. /n oA my griefa—and God hat given my ahart. Prior 
notes a alight similarity here to a line of CoUina :— 

Ye mute companiona of my toils, that bear. 
In all my griefa, a more than equal ahare ! 

Hassan ; or, The Camel Driver. 
In The Present SUUe of PoliU Learning, 17B9, p. 143, Goldsmith 
refeia feelingly to ' the neglected author of the Peraian eclogues, 
which, however inaccurate, excel any in our language.' He 
included four of them in The Beauties of English Poesy, 1767, 
i. pp. 239-S3. 
1. 87. To husband out, Ac. In the first edition this ran :— 
My anziouB day to husband near the dose, 
And keep life's flame from wasting by repose. 
I. 96. Here to return— and die at home at last. Forster compares 
a passage in The Citizen of the World, 1762, u. 153:—' There U 
something so seducing in that spot in which we first had exist- 
ence, that nothing but it can please ; whatever vicissitudes we 
experience in life, however we to'., or wheresoever we wander, 
our fatigued wishes still recur to home for tranquillity, we long 
to die in that spot > ch gave us birth, and in that pleasing 
expectation opiate every calamity.' The poet Waller too— he 
odds— wished to die ' like the stag where be was roused.' {Life, 
1871. ii. 202.) 

NOTES ,8a 

I. TO. H.^hapn h. ' How bl«, i. h, • ta .he «„, edition 

r«irr:', " tLT -^ •^'" "-"-rr s: 

«w.^° "'' "'""^ •« «"»• oavicloriou,. i. by n,o„j.g 

open«l thU^L. .u,,y p„ J„?r"r "?-'""»«'•" <«-' "•" 
the breach ' I S^^P , ' " '«"°*^" <<«•• not .tud full in 

1.109. B«rf,. 'Sink. -in the fir.t edition 

And glide* in modett innocence iway ■ 
»nd Irent, Act ii, Sc. 7 •_ 

And varied life .teal unperceiv'd away. 

. ir. or I'n^s^tdVf™" th"i •"-■"" "-"'"«« 

model for Ugolino Wh!^ . * *'^««" "''° »" *>" 

Go.<^Sthrrfiw^rr L",;iiir '"'t '"^ """' •» 



rather be placed on th. little mount before Li,hoy gate, and he^ 

tn2. mT;. tr' '"^"'■"' -"''- '- ---IS 

„„, , . ' ' '*• ^- •'^' t«oId8mith says :_• The nilrhtin 

ru:i:.-''7s:;« ^-^^ •« '-^ p^p*' ^p^^-et for:;:^: 

1- 12a .Vo ciee./ui ™«,„u« fiuciuau ,n tht gait. Cf. Gold- 





smith's Eseay on Melaphora {BrilUh Magazine) :— ' Arnutrong 
has used the word fluduate with admirable efficacy, in his philo- 
sophical poem entitled The Art of Preserving Healtk. 

Oh ! when the growling winds contend, and all 
The sounding forest fluctmtea in the storm. 
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din 
Howl o'er the steady battlements. 
1. 136. The sad historian of the pensive plain. Strean (see 
note to 1. 13) identified the old watercress gatherer as a certain 
Catherine Giraghty (or Geraghty). Her children (he said) were 
still living in the neighbourhood of Lisaoy in 1807. (Mangin's 
Essay on Light Reading, 1808, p. 142.) 

1. UO. The village preacher's moie^ numsion rose. 'The 
Rev. Charles Goldsmith is allowed by all that knew him, to 
have been faithfully represented by his son in the character of 
the Village Preacher.' So writes his daughter, Catharine Hodson 
(Percy Memoir, 1801, p. 3). Others, relying perhaps upon the 
' forty pounds a year ' of the Dedication to TU Travdler, make 
the poet's brother Hehry the original ; others, again, incline to 
kindly Uncle Contarine (vide Introduction). But, as Prior justly 
says (Life, 1837, ii. 249), ' the fact perhaps is that he fixed 
upon no one individual, but borrowing like all good poets and 
painters a little from each, drew the character by their combi- 
1.142. with forty pounds a year. Cf. Dedication to J'A« TrowWer, 

p. 3, 1. 14. 

1. 145. Vnpractis'd. ' Unskilful ' in the first edition. 

1. 148. More skilled. ' More bent ' in the first edition. 

1. 151. The long remember'd beggar. ' The same persons,' says 
Prior, commenting upon this passage, ' are seen for a series of 
years to traverse the same tract of country at cerUin intervals, 
intrude into every house which is not defended by the usual 
outworks of wealth, a gate and a porter's lodge, exact their 
portion of the food of the family, and even find an occasional 
resting-place for the night, or from severe weather, in the chimney- 
corner of respectable farmers.' (Life, 1837, ii. 269.) Cf. Scott 
on the Scottish mendicants in the ' Advertisement ' to The 
.inliquary. 1810, snd Lelands Hisi. of Ireland, 1773, i. 35. 

1. 155. The broken soldier. The disbanded soldier let loose 



CMemorUI Edition'). 1887 oHf, Z"""''' " ■"'' ■""»<* 
ancient campaigner, :i.htLf,VttL:w"^,"'°'« °' '""' 
endlew .tone, of Minden and Quehl ^ """°" "«* "■«'' 
them by T. S. Good of ^™ b k , ' """^ * P'''""« <>' '»<> of 

P^Dvenfng angels met it half the wayf ^ ' 
And «nt u« back to praise, nho came .o pray. 
'• 189. Aa tome taU dW *.. i.. c 
have been «upposed7otfv'e* ,„i T';:,^"""'- ""'^ «.udian 
deservedly pop^simile B^t "^ T"""*'' *^ """ «"«> ""d 
arity with Cnch Itetture aLrr "" ■■" °'''"'"'' '«■»'«• 
.to the ancients.- it t not u^iU^y LVL" '^ "' ""■ " °'"'«'«™' 
in the Academy for Oct T 8S« I ' '"««'"'^ ''y " ""'« 
,be found in the^ollowiiS ^f "'^"7^ ™«'""°'' '" '° 
lain (1595-1674) to RioZlC^ ' '"''''*™«' ""y «"•!«• 

Dans un paisible mouvement 
Tn t'^Aves au firmament, 
Et laisses eontre toi murmurer cette terre • 

Lafsrfumer".: T'T' ' ""' P'"" »'"°'>'''e«. 
Et Jr "'^" '' S™""*" '« tonnerre, 

Et garfe son sommet tranquille et lumin^i. 

''n:^:;S^it-:t.-;^'^-^ - «. ^o^ter ,.,, ,s7i. 
^- a poem^y ^::A'c:t^'^T^:r^^zi,t--'^ "- 


Je Buis tranquille et eai S^- '^, **• espirer jamai. de la bont* des dieuH 



Tel qu'un rocher dont la tete, 
£gaUnt le Mont Atho«, 
Voit k «e» pieds la t«mp*te 
Troubler le oalme de* flotB, 
Lft met autour bruit et gronde ; 
Malgri tea Amotion», 
Sur aoD front «lev* rigne une paix profonde, 
Que tant d'agitations 
Et que Bee fureurB de I'onde 
Respeotent k l'*gal da nid de» alcyonB. 
On the other hand. Gold.mith may have gone "o *>"*"*"; 
Young'. CamjiaM: NigU the Sec«nd, 1742, p. 42. where, a. 
Mitford points out. occur these lines :— 

As some tall Tow'r, or lofty Mountain's Brow, 
Detains the San, IllustriouB from its Height, 
While rising Vapours, and descendmg Shades. 
With Damps, and Darkness drown the Spatious Vale ; 
Undampt by Dottbt, Undarken'd by Despair. 
Philander, thus, augustly rears his Head. 
Prior also {Ufe, 1837, ii. 252) prints a passage from AmW 
TZrl 1774, i. 145. derived from Ulloa. which perhaps served 
as the raw material of the simile. m io 

im f«a rveU thty laugh'd. &c. Steele, in SpecUU^r.tlo. i9 
(fo'Sm 1711). Z a^omewhat similar thought :-' EMu, 

then heTakes his Head at any Piece of pubUck News. Aey a 
If them appear dejected , and. on the contrary, go home to their 
Dil«Xago.ilStomach and chearful Aspect, when B«M«, 

seems to intimate that Things go well. , 

1.205. re* *. «« Knd. &«• J^" ^'^ZTV , P^ 
' aught • in this couplet Prior cites the precedent of Pope .- 

Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault, 
And each exalted stana teems with thought . 
(B,«» o« Criticim, 1. 422). He might also have cited Waller, 
who elides the ' 1 ' :— 

Were we but less indulgent to our fau'ts. 
And patience had to cultivate our thoughts. 

NO'l'KS jy^ 

But mine the sorrow, mine the fault 

And well my life shall pay ; 
I II eeek the solitude he sought. 

And stretch me where he lay 


smith's own masterat uJ^.^i^J^ .'~"°*''^ '""» Go'd- 
writing,andarithmetic--sa™hU.Ut:rT^,r'™'':r' " "'«'"«• 
• by ..chcK,lmaster in his fatfertvCe tho^hL^'i'"- """"'- 
master in the army in Queen .„",**' "''°.''»^,^'«'''' « quarter- 
which was sent to S^ain. "^f "",!"?;::; '° ""' detachment 
part of Europe and beina of I™! °'""" ' «<>°«<Jerable 

en.^rtainOliv'^withhKntui^r.rdT*""' "" "^ '° 
made on his scholar wer« behevTb'v th ^^P'""'"™ "«'«' 

him that wandering and u^^ttl^tultv ?"' *° ""^ «'™" 
in his future life ' (pZ^ ,"''""'' "° ""«'' ^PPe'red 

this worthy, ZcoJL^^^''- ""i" ^P' '-^•' ">« name of 
^-yo^^rC^^r;^"™',';"^- (Byrne). '«"«»'« 

■219.^r„.y^er«„™. See note to I. 13. 
1. ^. The chut contriv'd a double debt lova« Ct ,t, n ■ 
Urn 0/ o» Amor's BedOamier. p. 48,T ult^- *'' 

A cap by „ight_a stocking all the day - 

broadside, 8urmount«l K„ . j "> '""i- P- M^.) This old 

atudy of King Charl^ th Rm offile^.^' u '"""'' '" *" 
foUow:-'!. Urge no healths 2 Prlf..™"'^' '"^ " 

iarif TAT """^ " ■* --rs^t:: rr ni 


nolongmeas; H Ren,.»f „„ ■ "«•- "o vice ; 10. Make 

Prior, ... ^.,. fsr;v"r;:r • t'Thir^S'^: 


make, the 'Twelve Good Eule.' coiupiouou. in the PariA 


Thete ta King Chailee, »nd all hi. Golden Bnlee. 
Who proved Misfortune's was the beat of achooto. 
Her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, kept a copy oJ the«, rules in the 
servants' hall at Windsor Castle. . 

Teray^lgameotgcou. The • Royal and Entertammg Game 
of the Goose ' is described at length in Strutf. Sports and Pa.- 
uZ bk iv, ch. 2 (xxv). Itmay bebrieflydcaned asa gameof 
T^mLu with diffe«nt title, through ^^ich the pl^er 
p^o^ according to the numbers he throws with the dice. 
At every fourth or fifth compartment is depicted a goo"- ""^ 
if the payer's cast fall, upon one of the«. he move, forward 
double the number of his throw. 

1. 23S. Whik broken Ua-cups. Cf. the De«^«n of an 
AvOtar'a Beddiamber, p. 48, 1. 18 :— 

And five craok'd, teacups dress'd the chimney board. 
Mr. Hogan, who repaired or rebuilt the ale-house at Ltasoy, tUd 
no for^t. besides ^storing the ' Royal Game of Goo« 'and *e 
°Twelv^ Good Rule.,' to add the broken teacup, "which for 
b^r ««urity in the frail tenure of --^J^'^'ZZ^' 
doubtful decorum of his guests, were embedded m the mortar. 
(Prior. K/e. 1837, a. 265.) , , ,. 

1. 250. ShaU Hm the cup. Cf. Scott's Lochmvar :- 
The bride kissed the goblet : the knight took it up. 
He quaffd off the wine and he threw down the cup. 
Cf. also The HUtory of Mi,, Stanton (BrUUh '^<V««'^J^- 
1760).-' The earthen mug went round. Mi« touched fhe cup. 
the stranger pledged the parson.' &o. ,>,.;„, „„mnaH« 

1 m Between a splmdid and a happy land. Prior compare. 
The Citizen of the World. "62. i. 98 :-' Too much commerce 
may injure a nation as weU as too little : "'d . . . there » 
» ^de difference between a conquering and a flounshmg 

'TsiO Toseepro/««on«ta«*efniM«no<.»are. Cf. ^nim<rtrf 
Nature, iv. p. 43:-' He only guards those luxuries he « not 
fated to share.' [Mitford.] 



Op to the third edition the word. 

I. 313. To »ee thme joyi. 
were taeh joy. 

With hemp the gallow. and the fleet supply 
R^po» your Mheme., ye Mnatorian band, 
Whose way. and mean, .upport the .inking I««l: 
l*8t rope, be wanting in the tempting .pring, 
To ng another convoy for the king. 

1.326. Where the poor houMlaaMverittg female lit, Mitforrf 
compare. Utter oxiv of The CUuen o, J^X ^ji m°^ 

b^T n, "T '"^^ ^'^ °"™ »«» happier ^™an^ 
been flattered into beauty. They have been pr«tituted^; ^h. 
gay luxuriou. villain, and are now turned out"oC th^^terhv 
of winter Perhap. now lying at the door, of ttei trrlZ 
they .ue to wretohe. whoae heart, are insensible, o detlXs 
who may curse, but will not relieve them • Tfcl "^"'"""'"^ 

^^ j^ 332. Near her betrayer's ioor, &c. Cf. the foregoing quota- 

vlw ""^ ^*"'*'' "■ *■•* Alatamaha, a river in Georgia 
North Amenca. Goldsmith may have been familiar with Ts' 
name m connexion with his friend Oglethorpe's expedition oJ 

1. 3S5. crowing tiger,, a poetical licence, as there are no 
tiger. ,n the locality named. But Mr. J. M. I^bbarcaTls "te„ 
tion to a p.«»ge from AninuUed Nature [1774, iii.^S Iwch 
Goldsmith seem, to defend him«lf :-' There i. «. „U, o, 


Americ, which U u.ually called the Red Tiger, but Mr. Buffon 
calk it the Cougar, which, no doubt, ia very different from the 
tiger of the east. Some, however, have thought proper to rank 
both together, and I will take leave to follow their example.' 

1.371. The good Mrire. a.Threm>diaAutiulali».n.\t-n:- 
The good old lire, unconecioua of decay. 
The modeat matron, clad in homeapnn gray. 

1. 378. a lalhtr't. ' Her father's ' in the firat edition. 

1. 384. tiUtit. ' Decent ' in the fint edition. ^ 

1 418. On Torno't aifft, or Pambamarea'i tidt. 'Tomo = 
Tornea, a river which falbi into the Gulf of Bothnia ; Pamba- 
marca ia a mounUin near Quito, South America. ' The author - 
aaya Bolton Comey-' beara in memory the operations of the 
French phUoeophera in the arctic and equatorial regioMjaa 
deacribed in the celebrated narrativea of M. Maupertuia and Don 
Antonio de Ulloa.' . ™. i . f™. 

11 427-30. That tradt't pro"^ '"'P*"' *«• ™"* *"' .'„ 
linea are attributed to Johnaon on BoaweU'a authority:- Dr. 
Johnaon . . . favoured me by marking the line, which he fur- 
nUhed to Goldamith'a Deserted Village, which are only the Uut 
lour' (Birkbeck Hill'B Bo«w«8, 1887, ii. 7.) 

Thia translation, or rather imitation, waa first publiahed at 
DD 176-7 of An Enquiry into the Present State of PdUe Learntng 
^tsurope. 1759 (Chap. «i. ' Of the Stage '), where it is prefa^^d 
aa foUowa :-' MiCROBius has preserved a prologue, spoken and 
written by the poet [Decimus] Laberius, a Roman knight, whom 
C«8ar forced upon the stage, written with great elegance and apint 
which shewa what opinion the Romana in geuera <»"«'^'°f °' 
the profeaaion of an actor.' In the aecond edition of 1774 the 
prologue waa omitted. The original lines, one of which God- 
Lith quotea. are to be found in the Saturnalv, of, 
lib. ii. cap. vii {Opera. London, 1694). He seems to have con- 
fined himself to imitaung the first fifteen :— 

Neceaaitas. cujua curaua transveisi impetuin 
VolKorunt multi effugere, pauci potuenint. 

NOTKS ,9, 

Quo n,« detru«it p«ene exlremi. .en- f 

Quern null, .mbitio, null, umqu.m la^, 
Nullu. .imor. vto null., „u||. .uctori.„ 
Movere potuit in juvent. de .t.tu ■ 
Eooe m .eneoU ut f.cil« Lbefecit loco 
Virt ExccUenti. mente clemente edit. 
SubmiM. plMide bLndiloquen. oratio! 
Etemm ip« di cui nihil potuerunt, 
Hominem me deneg.™ quU powet p.ti ? 
*.rgo bis triceni. .nni« mIu tine tot. 
Eque. Romany. Un egrewu. meo 
Domum reverter mimu,. nimirum boo die 
Uno plu. v,xi mihi quam vivendum fuit. 

.t;x:v!!''- "■ '"• «'"""' -K^atidaiit^: :^ 

Too Uvish .till in good, or evil hour. 
To ahow to man the empire of thy power, 
"fortune, at thy wild impetuou, aww, 
in^e blo«,oms of my fame mu.t drop away. 
Then w the fme the obedient plant to .t™i„ 
When hfe waa warm in every vigorou. vein, 

ILT ^ ^"""^ """^ '" ">' P'"'i« "iilK 
And bend my pliant boyhood to thy will 

ho might I hope applauding crowd, to hear. 

Catch the quick amile. and his attentive ear. 

But ah I for what haat thou reserVd my age J 

Fled « the bloom of youth-the manly al,- 
The vigorous mind that spurnM at «„d care ■ 
Oone IS the voice, whose clear and sih.r tone ' 
The enraplurd theatre would love to own. 
As clasping ivy chokes the en, umber'd tn« 
ho age with foul embrace ha. ruined m„ ' 
Thou and the tomb. Uberius, art the «me. 
Empty within, what hast thou but . name ! 


Mscrobiua, it nwy be romembend, wu the tnthor, with 
a quotation from whom Johiuon, after a long lilence, electrified 
the oompMiy upon hia fint arrival at Pembroke College, thm 
giving (layi Boaweli) ' the fint improuion of that more extemive 
reading in which he had indulged himtelC (Birkbeck Hill'a 
BmimM, 1887, i. 59). H the itody of Hacrobiua i» to be regarded 
aa a teat of ' more extenaive reading,' that praiae muat therefore 
be accorded to Ooldamith, who oitoi him in hia Brat book. 


Thia quatrain, the original of which doe* not appear to have 
been traced, waa first publiahed in The Ba for Saturday, the 
6th of October, 1789, p. 8. It is there succeeded by the foltowing 
Latin epigram, ' in the same spirit' : — 

Lumsi Aeon dextro capta est Leonida sinistro 

Et poterat forma vincere uterque Decs. 
Parve puer lumen quod habes concede puellan 
Sic tn caecus amor sic erit ilia Venus. 
There are several variations of this in the Ooitfeman'f Afofottiie 
for 1748, pp. 104, 189, 213, 327, one of which is said to be ' By 
a monk of Winchester,' with a reference to ' Cambden's Rtmaitu, 
p. 413.' None of these corresponds exactly with Goldsmith's 
text; and the lady's name is uniformly given as 'I^onilla.' 
A writer in the Quarterly Review, vol. 171, p. 296, prinU the 
* original ' thus^ 

Lumine Aeon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro, 

Et potis eat forma vincere uterque Deos. 
Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori ; 
Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit ilkt Venus ; 
and says ' it waa written by Girolamo Amalteo, and will be found 
in any of the editions of the Trium Fratrum AmaUheorum 
Carmina, under the title of 'De gemellis, fratre et sorore, luscis." 
According to Byron on Bowles (Woria, 1838, vi. p. 390), the 
persons referred to are the Princess of Eboli, mistress of Philip II 
of Spain, and Maugiron, minion of Henry III of France, who 
had each of them lost an eye. But for this the reviewer above 
quoted had found no authority. 




•o be found *h.« Goi!;„h"L°"r,1" "",'' " " '°"'""- '' 

/">»...r fa 0„f,„^ 7^ r « "^ ""' '" '""» "" *"y of f, 
p. 198,:- '^•^"^''W™^". Vary «!„•„.,„/„, 

Et«ens a Ims. 

Pour temoigner de ma flam- 

,""• '" "oillour d« mon un. 
i" "'»'" ''°n"<' » ce nouvel an 
-Non paa dentelle ni niban. 
Non pu ewnce. ni pommade, 
Quelque. boite. de marmelade. 
In manchon, d«i gana. „„ bouquet 

V ""' P""' **"« que bonne . 

Jevouadonne: Ah lie direr 

II «.t tem. de 8'^aianciper. 
Patience va m'ichaper 
Fu«iez.vou. cent foi, p|„. aimable. 
«*"" ^™. J« vou. donne . . . ,u Diable. 

(1641-1728). who ia laid („ i, ,'^^™»'^ ''« '» M»nnoye 

°',^-«" « Cp^l'h'edt n";'"'"" "■^'" "■ ' ^°"--'' 

climaxin t" reL^W,!' " Tr '"""*''"' "^ '^'^ <" «>« "mi. 

to give her. I referred the^' . ^''«'"'^J' »'«» ''l>»t we were 

them haveaince bcen7hVn,K T ti' """""*<»<» ■»« i but «,n.e of 
oo,.o..„„"**" """»'""« ^'"''-"'ithtomake out the riddle- 



TbtM linn, which have often, »nd even ol Ute yeM», been 
included «mon( Swilfe woA., were fint printed m Gold.mithe 
by T »t vol. i. pp. IIS-H of The Pottical and Dranulu 
Wurkt of Olivtr OUdmUh. M.B.. 1780. They originally appeared 
in Tht Bu,y Body for Thunday, October the I8th, 1759 (No. v). 
having thi. notification above the title : ' The following Poem 
written by Dn. Swirr. in communicated to thj Public by the 
Busy Body, to whom it wai preeented by a Nobleman of dw- 
tinguiahed Learning and Taate.' In No. ii they had already 
been advertised an forthcoming. The aub-title, ' In imiUtion 
of Dean Swift.' leema to have been added by Evani. The text 
here followed ii that of the Bmt iwue. 

1. S. Witt AruMle and SmitUciui. «. The Ujt of PontfO, 
1770, p. 3 :— ' Hie imagination might have been too warm to 
reliih the cold logic of Burgendiciu., or the dreary luhtletiea of 
Smigteaiiu ; but it i> cerUin, that aa a dawical acholar, few 
could equal him.' Martin Smiglesiua or Smigletiun.a Polish Jeeuit, 
theologian and logician, who died in 1618, appear, to have been 
a special bttt noire to Goldemith ; and the reference to him here 
would support the ascription of the poem to Goldsmith's pen, 
were it not that Swift seems also to have cherished a like anti- 
pathy :— ' He told me that he had made many efforts, upon hie 
entering the College [i.e. Trinity College, Dublin], to read some 
of the old treatises on logic writ by Smeglenu; Keckermannus, 
Burgersdinus, Ac, and that he never hs4 patience to go through 
three pages of any of them, he was so disgusted at the stupidity 
of the work.' (Sheridan's Life of Swift, 2nd ed., 1787, p. 4.) 

I. 16. Than reaton-boatting mortaTt pride. So in Tht Busy 
Body. Some editors— Mi tford, for example— print the line :— 
Than reason,- boasting mortals' pride. 
L 18. Dtua ett anima brulorum. Of. Addison in Sjmiator, 
No. 121 (July 19, 1711): ' A modem Philosopher, quoted by 
Monsieur Bale in his Learned Dissertation on the Souls of Brutes 
delivers the same Opinion [i.e.— That Instinct is the immediate 
direction of Providence], tho' in a bolder form of words, where 
be says Dius est Anima Brutoritm. God himself is the Sou! of 

N0TK8 ,g, 

M. B«„rd7-' rl. ;S' r !' :"'"" "•"• "«" '«•"« 

"r^ '"•r- "«-" unTnb; ::r^^ "' -" «-- «•"'• = 

uo aee Sir Roimt— 

P. See Sir Robert !-hum- 

Seen h m I h.Te. but in hi. happier h,.,,r 

8«n h,m unoumber-4 with the V..^„, . .w 
8«..].w.,hout Art. .„d win withe, Ur,^. 

ind.:^- tberr^ToaTz-swiii- '"^h" "^^"' -•-■"'• 

that follow. G.y. life w« w„?l " """ ""^ " " '"'"^ 

court patron«e Ld h!.T ^ " '""'*" «P<-vtH,„ „s oi 
hi. wri^nT^ ■ *"PP<"''t"™t often betn.,. n^U .,! 

portion, de. .„,*. j , '!: „ " '""'"* ™" "«>«.»• nou. nou. 
«u».utre.le.."™LVd.;oriT • "", "•"" ''™''"'» '" >"'- 

.ppeloit Centell*. eelL d irSif T^'*""" *"'™'""' 
mome Silva ; et nou. n™.. ..""""• "• »« nommoient de 
empruntA,. tout .u^ bZ TT"" P*" ' P*" "»'" =" »<"»• 
viriublemint." Burs^r.^ , "'*"'"" •"■' '" P°"°«nt 
in ^P«*«or. No.S'fo, Junef, "'^^^1^'^' '•""i"' 
of Servant.,' a pap^r »nn«!li V ! ' °" "" ""behaviour 

night after THe ^rfet^^ 217 l,"'''"''' "»•" « '°«- 
first time at DrW^r n^^ Y"*"^- '" P'^^*^ for th, 
gentlemen-, gen^e^^'-r ""'"'' '° ""> g^'iAction of the 
wrote 'AWorf orTwo on the irr/*"'"^- ''''"^■°"»' '"°«" 
^«-.>V in n. a« fir CmlLr^^^rT^a' ""!*/* ^'" **- 



This little piece first appeani in Tie Btt for October 20, 1759 
(No iii). It is there called ' A Sonnet," a title which is only accu- 
rate in so far as it is ' a little song." Bolton Comey affirms that 
it is imi'ated from the French of SaintPavin (i.e. Denis Sangum 
de Saint-Pavin, d. 1670), whose works were edited in 1759, the 
year in which Goldsmith published the collection of essays and 
verse, in which it is to be found. The text here followed U that 
of the ' new edition ' of The Bet. published by W. Lane, Leaden- 
hall Street, no date, p. 94. Neither by its motive nor its literary 
merits-it should be added-did the original call urgently for 
translation ; and the poem is here included solely because, being 
Goldsmith's, it cannot be omitted from his complete works. 

1.5. This and the following line in the first version run :— 
Yet, why this killing soft dejection ? 
Why dim thy beauty with a tear ? 

Quebec was token on the 13th September, 1759. Wolfe was 
wounded pretty early in the action, while leading the advance 
of the Louisbourg grenadiers. ' A shot shatterec' .: wrist. He 
wrapped his handkerehief about it and kept on. '.aother shot 
struck him, and he still advanced, when a third lodged in his 
breast. He staggered, and sat on the ground. Ueutenant 
Brown, of the grenadiers, one Henderson, a volunteer in the 
same company, and a private soldier, aided by an officer of 
artillery who ran to join them, carried him in their arms to the 
rear. He begged them to lay him down. They did so, and 
asked if he would have a surgeon. " There 's no need," he 
answered ; " it 's all over with me." A moment after, one of 
them cried out, "They run; see how they run!" "_Who 
run J " Wolfe demanded, like a man roused from sleep. " The 
enemy, sir. They give way everywhere ! " " Go, one of you, 
to Colonel Burton," returned the dying man ; " tell him to 
march Webb's regiment down to Charles River, to cut off their 
retreat from the bridge." Then, turning on his side, he mur- 



«»rf Wcl/e, 188a, U 296-7 . i„ h w^" "^"'"»*n'» -W<,«<ca/m 

the Io« 0, .uoi. a m.; wtZl7to' th *'" '"°' ="' ^"""P" 
quering of all r«ni^. *T ° ""* "*"°" """> ">c con- 

the „on,e„t when J^ l^Xt ^^^ ^■'°; '™« «-t„e. ,i„ 
were first published in Tk, n? bT Ar" *"* P"**"' »'«"==«« 

LIS -d^'etr ::rire^ ■'■r *- ^^°"^"" 

Henrietta Gold»n.ith. It ma"^ n„^ ^Zt^" »>o,her being 
popular rendering of Wolfe'/delth imn T"'" "'"'" 

Nebon never paased in a nrin, T '"!"-" --endering which 

it-waasaidtoTbi^u^ thfd" "'. ' *""■« '""'^ ''^ 

It wa, engraved by^rand^^^rLT:: ""fr"' tT 
names of thoM- »nn»,.„-» ■ »u •^"*"""'»"o. A key to the 

oontinnj. Golds^ tt Zl^^ZZ Z^- rf" T 

idle w;.^ i„X l„e"?^r!^T''1;''''^'^''""«-' ^ 
tesent^l n, j, ^ ^ (Cradock's Memom. 1826, i. 230) 

f^XreTearSf't:,""''"; ""'' "'" ■""•"'"^ '° '^- 

a-: Of ct^t- .ri: r r^-r^f 7.^; z^- 

-^.. to have known its real .^Uf IfTherot^a ;:: 
0/ W/aX/'i*?, ""'is,™*' '" •"«''^^'" -»«'"• in the later fl.Xor, 


happens to die with u», the whole band of elegiac poets raise 
the dismal chorus, adorn his bene with all the paltry escutcheons 
of flattery, rise into bombast, paint him at the head of his thunder- 
ing legions, or reining Pegasus in hU most rapid career ; they are 
sure to strew cypress enough upon the bier, dress up all the muses 
in mourning, and look themselves every whit as dismal and 
sorrowful as an undertaker's shop.' He returned to the subject 
in a CMnese Utter of March 4, 1761, in the Public Ledger 
(afterwards Letter ciii of The Citizen of the WorU, 1762, u- 
162-5), which contains the lines On the DeaA of the Right Hotumr- 
able . . . ! and again, in The Vicar of Wakefield, 1766, J. 174. 
d propoa of the Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog. he makes Dr. 
Primrose say, ' I have wept so much at aU sorts of elegies of 
late, that without an enlivening glass I am sure this will over- 
come me.' , 
The model for An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize is to be found 
in the oW French popular song of Monsieur de la Palisse or 
Palice, about fifty verses of which are printed in Larousse's 
Grand Dictionnaire Vniverad du XIX me Siide, i. p. 179. It is 
there stated to have originated in some dozen stanzas suggested 
to U Monnoye (». »ttpro, p. 193) by the extreme artlessness of 
a military quatrain dating from the battle of Pavia, and the 
death upon that occasion of the famous French captain, Jacques 
de Chabannes, seigneur de la Palice :— 

Monsieur d'La Palice est mort, 

Mort devant Pavie ; 
Vn quart d'heuro avant sa mort. 

U eiait encore en vie. 

The remaining verses, i. e. in addition to those of la Monnoye, 
are the contributions of successive generations. Goldsmith 
probably had in mind the version in Part iii of the Menagiana, 
(ed. 1729, iii, 384-391 ) where, apparently by a typographical error, 
the hero is called ' le fameux la Qaliste, homme imaginaire.' The 
verses he imitated most closely are reproduced below. It may be 
added that this poem supplied one of its last inspirations to the 
pencil of Randolph Caldecott, who pubUshed it as a picture- 
book in October, 1885. (See also An Elegy on the Death of a 
Mad Dog, p. 212.) 



1. 20. Wken the ha, walk'd before. Cf. the French =_ 
On dit que dans ses amoun 

II fut caress* dee belles, 
Qui le suivirent toujouni, 
Tant gu'U marcha devanl dies. 
1. 24. Her Uut disorder mortal, d. the French :- 
II fut par un friste sort 

Blesse d'une main cruelle. 
On croit, puis qu'il en est mort, 
Que la phie etoit martette 

■ b'v fJTJ'"''- '!"«"*•"''■ ■^'"^"y ■•"'""'"«''.' -id Strync 
oy Uroom Men and Mumneni ' • «r,A p.. p . „ °"yP^- 

rich, but Sheriff of f^ It Z\l""^ir' °"'^ 
corresponding to the p„i„t • old Kenfr'^ ZtT)'^ 

1759T,L th "J^" *° " '" ^'" ■«« '» October 20 

acquamunce, whether in rags or lace ■ whethT, i^ " 

first form of the«, verses :-' Your last letter. I repeat it. Z 


too «hort i you .hould have given me your opinion of the de«ign 
of the heroicomicl poem which I «nt you : you remember 
I intended to introduce the hero of the poem, m lying m » paltry 
alehouM. You may take the following apecimen of the manner, 
which I flatter my«lf U quite original. The room m which he 
liea, may be described somewhat this way :— 

The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, 
That feebly shew'd the state in which he lay. 
The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread : 
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread ; 
The game of goose was there expos'd to view 
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew : 
The seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place. 
And Prussia's monaich shew'd his lamp-blaik face 
The morn was cold ; he views with keen desire, 
A rusty grate unconscious of a Hre. 
An unpaid reck'ning on the frieze was scor'd. 
And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney board. 
And now imagine after hU soliloquy, the landlord to make his 
appearance, in order to dun him for the reckoning :- 
Not with that face, so servile and so gay. 
That welcomes every stranger that can pay. 
With sulky eye he smoak'd the patient man. 
Then puU'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c. 
All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of 
Montaign[e]'s, that the wisest men often have friends, with whom 
they do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present 
follies as instances of regard. Poetry is a much easier, and more 
agreeable species of composition than prose, and could a man 
live by it, it were no unpleasant employment to be a poet. 

In Letter »ix of The CUizen of the World. 1762, i. 119- 
22 which first appeared in The Puilic Ledger for May 2, 
1760, they have a different setting. They are read at a club 
of authors by a 'poet, in shabby finery,' who asserts that he 
has composed them the day before. After some preliminary 
difficulties, arising from the fact that the laws of the club do 
not permit any author to inflict his own works upon the assembly 
without a money payment, he introduces them as follows:- 

NOTES jjj 

desonption of nature I „„)„ i^ !. ' " " »" heroical 

yo«r,ouUuni,o„ 'w"h JineL^* ^°" ' l""™'"" "> "■•"« 
with which I have wr t "n ■^h u"" "«' »"«■« <"'th«»ia«,n 

n.y own .partment;Tr vou ml I "'"'""' *" "'^'^''«' i" 
myself the heroe. Then pu,,T„Tv"°";'«.^"''^'"™- '''''* ' •» 
«n orator, with all the emnW* ^"""" ""o "■" """"de of 
Deeded. *"* "'"P''"" "' ^'^ and action, he pro- 

Where the Red Lion, Ac.' 


-ample. In a slight ydifftrtntfot""' " """"" '" " '"'"'" 
wards worked into TheZX v7' ""T. °' "'*'" ^"' »""■ 

Calverts and Hum;h«J"„fr'" *t'* '*"""«^'"- ^hl 
butt beer ■ or porfer LoTr T T'*^ """"^ "' ' ^'i^" 

%ure,on^hesi«ninHoga^hTB,.^;:::;,,r '"" ^'' 

gii'i?! ::f ^e rth^" '^""" ~ ^^-^^^ 

tion8:-'Inc.otta«~ev^l^l '"''"' " P»'"y' decora- 

Farewell " and hr-HrnrR"! *'^ '" ** "^^ ">« " Sailor'« 
•he "Feats of M nho^^""^C B d JT""' '^'''" -" 
Mark." "The Four Se.s;ns."^:.^lt: ;'^ ,«,'-<'°«"« " ' 
tion.' 1887. p. 263.) (-Mfmoir. Memorial £di- 

P. m]\. ^."^ ^"" "' 0^' - '*- '» "•-. (See noto. 

p. ISt'i. m.'" ""'" ""'' '*^ -^ -''»' rf^-. (See note. 

still used a« a prim, fveTl/..i:r'; "?™' """'' "' ""^ '» 
1758. to his Lsin M™ tX,7ar r'''''*"'-'"«""''«- 
again refers to th s d";ic7 sL t ^°°'""«'). fo'dsmith 

-gaiity .. -i^Ht:r;en:^t2:LT.m:r:d;:' 

i. e. aci ord, ronform. 
H 3 


' my l«ndlsdy'» daughter ahall frame them with the paringn of 
my Mack waiitcoat." (Prior, Life, 1837, i. 271.) 

1. U. And bmvt Prinee WiUiam. William Augu»tu», Duke of 
Cumberland, 1721-65. The ' lampblack face ' would aeem to 
imply that the portrait was a silhouette. In the letter quoted 
on p. 200 it is ' Prussia's monarch ' (i.e. Frederick the Great). 

1. 17. With beer and mUk arrears. See the lines relative to the 
landlord in Goldsmith's above-quoted letter to his brother. In 
another letter of August 14, 1788, to Robert Bryanton, he 
describes himself as ' in a garret writing for bread, and eipectmg 
to be dunned for a milk score.' Hogarth's DiMreM Poet, 1736. 
it will be remembered, has already realired this expectation. 

I 20. .1 cop by night— a ttoehing aU the day. ' With this last 
line' says The Citizen of the World, 1762, i. 121, ' he [the author] 
seemed so much elated, that he was unable to proceed : " There 
gentlemen, cries he, there is a description for you ; Rablejais's 
bed-chamber is but a fool to it : 

A cap by night— a slocking all the day I 
There is sound and sense, and truth, and nature in the trifling 
compass of ten little syllables." ' (Letter xxix.) Cf. aUo The 
Deserted ViUage, 1. 230 :— 

A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day. 
If Goldsmith's lines did not belong to 1759, one might suppose 
he had in mind the later Pauire DiaUe of his favourite Voltaire. 
(See also Appbhdix B.) 


OF ••«•. 
These verses, intended for a specimen of the newspaper Muse, 
are from Letter Ixxxii of The Citizen of the World, 1762, u. 87, 
first printed in The Public Ledger, October 21, 1760. 

Aom Letter ciii of The CUizen of the World. 1782, ii. IW, first 
printed in The Public Ledger, March 4. 1761. The verses are 


,-««^...Ctri'i'^:' 'trior -' "- 


TO G. C. AND R. L. 

From the same letter aa the Drp>-f>Hin., f r, . 

Robert Lloyd of the Si /»«. • ?"'^"* "«■ ^^'ge Colman and 



becoming Esaay xivm, pp. 241-45. Thi, «< the text here foUo J!h' 
JJut the mherent aunpUcity of Goldamith's atyle ia 


curiously evidenced by the absence of thoee illmtratiom and 
ingenious allusions which are Prior's chief characteristic. And 
although Goldsmith included Tht lailt and Han» Carvd in his 
Beautiu of En^iah Putiy, 1767, he refrained wisely from copy- 
ing the licence of his model. 

I. 2. Jaek Bookworm led a college life. The version of 176.-. 
reads ' Uv'd ' for ' led." 

1. 6. And fre»hmen wonder' d as he spoke. The earlier version 

adds here— 

Without politeness aim'd at breeding. 
And laugh'd at pedantry and reading. 
1. 18. Her presence banish'd all hia peace. Here in »he first 
version the paragrapl 'cws, and a fresh one ia co^nenced aa 
follows: — 

0»r I .-r'd Parson now began 
To be a perfect ladies' man ; 
Made sonnets, lisp'd his sermons o'er. 
And told the tales he toW before. 
Of bailiffs pump'd, and proctors bit. 
At college how he shew'd his wit j 
And, as the fair one still approv'd. 
He fell in love— or thought he lov'd. 
So with decorum, &c. 
The fifth line was probably a reminiscence of the college riot 
in which Goldsmith was involved in May, 1747, and for his 
part in which he was publicly admonished. {See Inlrodueiion, 

p. xi, 1. 3.) 
I. 27. wage. This word, perhaps by a printers error, is 

' visage ' in the first version 
1. 39. SkiU'd in no other arts was she. Cf. Prior :— 

For in all Visits who but She, 
To Argue, or to Kepatt^. 

I. 46. Five greasy nighuapa mapp'd her head. Cf. Spectator, 
No 494-' At length the Head of the Colledge came out to him, 
from an inner Room, with half a Dozen Night-Caps upon his 
Head.' See also Goldsmith's essay on the Coronation (£««o,v«, 
1766, p. 238), where Mr. Grogan speaks of his wife as habitually 

NOTES aoj 

I. «J. By day, 'two, gadding at eoqumina Th« fl™. . < 
.ft.r coquetting • begin. . f^fc pa^Ig^a^wi.r- "'"" 

Now Uwdry madam kept. 4c 
folio"::' *** •■" ""-^"^ *-*'• «- '" th. fl».„ 

She in her turn, became perplexing. 
And found .ubetontial blin i„ vexing. 
Thua eveiy hour waa p««,'d, 4o 

I. 91. »«f,„»y to ^t. i. , ,„ ^^^^^_,^ ^^ ^1^ 


•• o. J 'W*e « Ponttton. Andrew Tnnto /ibtq i-,o-.. 
-her and then at the Chlrtert ' In h": »"' 
capacity he succeeded Thomaa Walker hell, . ! J.""" 
and Steele. Hia Panlh^n JH ! . ^^^' "' Addiaon 

of the Jeauit F^nda'S^^.ri ""'*',""' '""" ""' »-"" 
mythology, w/thc^p;:,^? " '"'""" "''°"''»<''' 0' 

1. 16. Winga upon either tide—mart thni Ti,. • 
Mercury, like his sandal. ,1. 24,, is Z^J ^ •*'""" "' 

I- 36. Ao poppy.u>a,er Half «, ,^. Poppy.,.,^,, ^^^ .^ 



boiling the hradi of thr white, bUck. or red poppy. »«« » (»»onrite 
eighteenlhrentury noporlfic i-'Juno nhall give her petcorli 
fofpn-mun, that he may (old hi> ogling tail.' (Congreve't Lort 
Ivr Liivr, 169A, iv. 3.) 
I. 42. With this ht drim» mm't Mnilt to ktll. 


.... Tirgaque levem coerce* 
Aurea turbam.— Hor. Od. i, 10. 
I. B7. Mnrtover, Mtrc'ry had a failing. 
Te canam .... 

Callidnm, quidquid placuit. iocou 
Condere furto.— Hor. Od. i. 10. 
r.oldfimith, it will be obnerved, rhyme" ' failing ' and ' atealing.' 
But Pope does much the »ame : — 

That Jelly'n rich, this Malmsey healing. 
Pray dip your Whiskers and your Uil in. 

{JmUatim of Hnraee. Bk. ii, .Sat. vi.) 
Unless this is to be explained by poetical licence, one of these 
words must have been pronounced in the eighteenth century as 
it is not pronounced nqw. 

1. 59. In which aU mndern barda agrte. The text of 1785 reads 
' our Bcribling bards.' 

This ballad, usually known as The Hermit, was written in or 
before 1765, and printed privately in that year 'for the amuse- 
ment of the Countess of Northumberland," whose acquaintance 
Goldsmith had recently made through Mr. Nugent. (See the pre- 
fatory note to The Haunch of Venimn.) Its title was ' Edwin 
andAngdina. A BaUad. By Mr. Goldsmith." It was first pub. 
lished in The Vicar o/ Wakefield, 1766, where it appears at 
pp. 70-7, vol. i. In July. 1767, Goldsmith was accused [by 
Dr. Kenrick] in the St. Jamea'a Chronicle of having taken it 
from Percy's Friar of Orders Bray. Thereupon he addressed 
a letter to the paper, of which the following is the material 
portion :— ' Another Correspondent of yours accuses me of having 



BalM i. ..k..„ from »in... , n, , T,,, "'";,"■ '" "f •"• 
be.,) .old „.. wm. ),i. (..«Ki Humour. ^.T,, Ti 'T" 

mmd. .re here reproduced. R..forenceB .0 them w, f^ Lj 
novel. The poem *a» al,o printed in the Z'-^™ /„, Young 


(ANSr and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 


^5^ 1653 East Moin Street 

iP'.^ Rochestfr, Htm fork U609 USA 

r-JSE (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 

^^ (716) zea - 5989 - Fax 


Ladies, 1767, pp. 91-8 '. The author himself, it may be added, 
thought highly of it. ' As to my " Hermit," that poem.' he 
is reported to have said, 'cannot be amended.' (Cradock's 
Memoirs, 1828, iv. 286.) 

1. 1. Turn, Sid. The first version has — 

Deign saint-like tenant of the dale. 

To guide my nightly way. 
To yonder fire, that cheers the vale 
With hospitable ray. 
1. 11. For yonder faithless phantom flies. The Viear of Wake- 
field, firtt edition, has—' For yonder phantom only flies.' 
1. 30. All. Vicar of Wakefield, first edition, ' For.' 
1. 31. Man wants but little here Mow. Cf. Young's Complaint, 
1743, Night iv. 9, of which this and the next line are a recollec- 
tion. According to Prior (Life, 1837, ii. 83), they were printed 
08 a quotation in the version of 1765. Young's line is — 
Man wants but Little ; nor that Little, long. 
I. 3,1. modest. Vicar of Wakefield, first edition, 'grateful.' 
1. 37. Far in a wilderness obscure. First version, and Vicar of 
Wakefield, first edition :— 

Far shelter'd in a glade obscure 
The modest mansion lay. 
1. 43. The wicket, opening with a latch. First version, and 
Vicar of Wakefield, first edition :— 

The door just opening with a latch. 
1. 45. And now, when busy crowds retire. First version, and 
Vicar of Wakefield, first edition :— 

And now, when worldly crowds retire 
To revels or to rest. 
1. 57. But nothing, &c. In the first version this stanza runs 
as follows :— 

But nothing mirthful could assuage 

The pensive stranger's woe ; 
For grief had seijed his early age. 
And tears would often flow. 
' This version differs considerably from the others, often following 
that of 1765 ; but it has not been considered necessary to record the 
variations here. That Goldsmith unceasingly revised the piece is 
sufficiently established. 



I'l!' T*?" !''""•''/ »'''*"f''''.fi"t^dition, reads 'haughty.' 
The bashful guest betray'd 

He sees unnumber'd beauties rise, 

Kxpanding to the view; 
Lilje clouds that deck the morning skies, 

As bn'sht, as transient too. 

Her looks, her lips, her panting breast. 

the !L *"' '" " 7"- *"• ^°' ">''• ""1 ">• "«« 'wo stanzas, 
the first version substitutes :— -"'««, 

Forgive, and let thy pious care 

A heart's distress allay ; 
That seeks repose, but finds despair 

Companion of the way. 
My father liv'd, of high degree. 

Remote beside the Tyne; 
And as he had but only me, 
Whate'er he had was mine. 
To win me from his tender arms, 

Unnumber'd suitors came ; 
Their chief pretence my flatter'd charms. 
My wealth perhaps their aim. 
1. 109 o mercenary crowd. Vicar of Wakefield, first edition, 
nas .— the gay phsntastio crowd.' 
I. HI. Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd. Firet version :- 
Among the rest young Edwin bow'd. 
Who offer'd only love. 

A constant heart was all he had. 
But that was all to me. 


1 117. Andtekenbendeme.&c. For this ' additional stenza,' 
says the Perry Memoir, p. 76, ' the reader is indebted to Richard 
Arehdal, Esq.. late a memhtT of the Irish Parliament, to whom 
it was presented by the author himself.' It was first printed m 
the MIscellaneoM Wmk.^, 1801, ii. 25. In Prior's edition of the 
MisceUaneous Works. 1837, iv. 41, it is said to have been ' written 
some years after the rest of the poem.' 

1. 121. The blossom opming to the day. &c. For this and the 
next two stanzas the first version substitutes :-- 
Whene'er he spoke amidst the train, 

How would my heart attend ! 
And till delighted even to pain, 

How sigh fo • such a friend ! 
And when a little rest I sought 

In Sleep's refreshing arms. 
How have I mended what he taught, 

And lent him fancied charms ! 
Yet still (aind woe betide the hour !) 

I spurn'd him from my side. 
And still with ill-dissembled power 
Repaid his love with pride. 
I. 129. For stiU I tried each fickle art. &c. Percy finds the 
prototype of this in the following stanza of Oenlle Herdsman :- 
And grew soe coy and nice to please. 

As women's lookes are often soe. 
He might not kisse, nor hand foraoothe, 
Cnlesse I willed him soe to doe. 
1. 133. TiU quite dejected uiith my scorn. &c. The first edition 
reads this stanza and the first twc lines of the next thus ;- 
Till quite dejected by my scorn. 

He left me to deplore ; 
And sought a solitude forlorn. 

And ne'er was heard of more. 
Then since he perish'd by my fault, 
This pilgrimage I pay, &c. 
I. 135. And sought a solitude forlorn. Cf. GeiUle Herdsman :— 
He gott him to a secrett place. 
And there he dyed without releeffe. 

NOTES 211 

na ,ne next t»o ntanzaa substitutes the following — 
And there in shelfring thickets hid, 

1 11 linge.- till I die j 
'TwiiK thus for me my lover did. 

And so for him will I. 
'Thou Shalt not thus.' the Hermit eried 

And clasp'd her to his breast • 
The astonish'd fair one turned to elude - 

Twas Edwin's self that prest. 
For now no longer could he hide 

What first to hide he strove ■ 
H.S looks resume their youthful pride 
And flush with honest love. 
T««, ,„ /„, „,. &e_ cf. Gentle Herdsman :- 
Thus every day I fast and prav. 
And ever will doe till I dye ;" 
And gett me to some secret plLce, 
For see did hee, and soe will I 


^^IJ^e. My Ule. Vicar „, WakefieU. fi„t edition, haa 'O 

I. 157. No. ne»r from rt» k.„r. 4c. The first edition reads - 
No. never, from this hour to part, 

Our love shall still be new ; 
And the last sigh that rends thy heart 
Shall break thy Edwin's too. " 
The poem then concluded thus :— 

Here amidst sylvan bowers we'll rove. 

From lawn to woodland stray ; 
Blest as the songsters of the grove, 

And innocent as they. 
To all that want, and all that wail 

Our pity shall be given, 
And when this life of love shall fail. 
We'll love again in heaven. 

I. I«. 

I. 14,5. 


These couplets, with certain alterations in the first and last 
lines, are to be found in the version printed in I'oems for } oung 
Ladia, 1767, p. «8. 

This poem was first published in The Vkar of Wakefield, 1766, 
i 175-6, where it is sung by one of the little boys. In common 
with the Elegy on Mrs. Mary Maize (p. 47) it owes somethmg of 
ito origin to Goldsmith's antipathy to fashionable elegiacs some- 
thing aUo to the story of M. de la Palisse. As regards mad 
dogs, its author seems to have been more reasonable than many 
of his contemporaries, since he ridiculed, with much common 
sense, their exaggerated fears on this subject [v. Chinese setter 
in The PiMic Ledger for August 29, 1760, afterwards Letter Ixvi 
of The Citizen of the World, 176-2, ii. 15). But it is ill jestmg 
with hydrophobia. Like Madam Bhize, these verses have been 
illustrated by Randolph Caldecott. , , , , j . 

15 In Islington there vyis a man. Goldsmith had lodgings at 
Mrs. Elizabeth Fleming's in Islington (or ' Isling town' as the 
earlier editions have it) in 1763-4 ; and the choice of the locality 
may have been determined by this circumstance. But the date 
of the composition of the poem is involved in the general obscurity 
which hangs over the Vicar in its unprinted state. (Sec Intro- 
dtKtion, pp.xviii-xix.) , 

1. 19. The dog, to gain some priixrfe ends. The first edition 
reads ' his private ends.' 

1. 32. The dog U was that died. ThU catastrophe suggests 
the ouplet from the Greek Anthology, ed. Jacobs, 1813-7, u. 

KairiraSdiciv iroT .>8wi icaict, Him- liXXi «ai airh 

KarBavt, ytviratiivTi aifiaros lO^oXov. 
Goldsmith, however, probably went no farther back than Voltaire 
on Freron ;— 

L'autre jour, au fond d'un vallon, 

Un serpent mordit Jean Freron. 

Devinez ce qu'il arriva ? 

Ce fut le serpent qui creva. 

NOTES 213 

This again, according to M. Edouard Fournier (VEsprit rf„ 
A,nns. .,,,h edition. 1881, p. 288), ia simply the LdjLLnT 
of an eeHier quatrain, based upon a Latin distich in he Bpi- 

I'n gros serpent mordit Aurelle. 
Que croyez-vous qu'il arriva ? 
Qu'Aurelle en mourut ?— Bagatelle I 
Ce fut le serpent qui cnva. 



First published in The Vicar of Wakefield. 1766, ii. 78 (chap v) 
It ,8 there sung by Olivia Primrose, after her return home with 

us have that httle melancholy air your pappa wa« so fond of 

your sister Sophy has already obliged uh. Do child, it will 

please your old father.' "She complied in a manner so ex. 

qu.s.tely pathetic,' continues Dr. Primrose, 'as moved me' 

The charm of the words, and the graceful way in which they are 

mtroduced, seem to have blinded criticism to the impropriety 

and even mhumanity, of requiring poor Olivia to sing a song so 

completely applicable to her own ca,e. No source has been named 

for thia piece; and its perfect conformity with the text would 

appear to indicate that Goldsmith was not indebted to any 

earlier writer for his idea. ^ 

His well-known obligations to French sources seem, however 

to have suggested that, if a Frenc'a original could not be dis." 

covered for the foregoing lyric, it might be desirable to invent one 

A clever paragraphist in the Si. James's GazeUe for January 28th' 

1889, accordingly reproduced the following stanzas, which, he 

Parufn ^m^i'^^ '°'""' '" ""^ ^"^^ "^ ^^'- 'P"-""" '" 

Lorsqu'une femme, aprjs trop de tendresse, 

D'un homme sent la trahison. 
Comment, pour cette si foiblesse 

Peut-elle trouver une guirison ? 



Lc Bcul remAdc (ju'cllc iieut rcsBcntir, 

La neul revanche pour son tort, 
Pour faire trop tard I'amant rcpentir, 
Helan! trop tard— eut la mort. 
As a correxpondent was not »low to point out, OoldBinith, if a 
copyist, at all events considerably improved his model (see in par- 
ticular lines 7 and 8 of the French). On the 30th of the month 
the late Sir '.ViUiam Fraser gave it as his opinion, that, until tbe 
volume of 1711. should be produced, the 'very inferior verst* 
ouoted • must be c'atsed with the fabrications of ' Father Prout, 
and he instanced that very version of the Burial of Sir John Jt core 
{Les FuniraiUes de Beauminoir) which has recently ( August 190ti) 
been going the round of the papers once again. No Segur volume 
of 1719 was, of course, forthcoming. 

Kenrick, as we have already seen, had in 1767 accused (.old- 
smith of taking Edwin and Angdina from Percy (p. 206). Thirty 
years later, the charge of plagiarism was revived m a diflerent 
way when Baimund and AngUitie. a French translation of the 
same poem, appeared, as Goldsmith's original, in a collection of 
Essays called The Quiz, 1797. It was eventually discovered to 
be a translation Iron, Goldsmith by a French poet named Leonard, 
who had included it in a volume dated 1792, entitled LeUres de 
deuxAman,.HabUansdeLy-. 'Prior'sti/e, 1837, ii. 89-94^ It may 
be added that, according tc the Biographic I7».«rsrffc, 1847, 
vol 18 (Art. 'Goldsmith'), there were then no fewer than at 
least three French imitations of The Hermit besides Leonard's. 

Goldsmith's comedy of The Good .Salur'd Man was produced 
by Colman, at Covent Garden, on Friday, January 29, 176«. 
The following note was appended to the Epilogue when printed : 
-' The Author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at 
Oxford, defered writing one himself till the very last hour. 
What is hert offered, owes all its success to the graceful manner 
of the Actress who spoke it.' It was spoken by Mrs. Bulkley. 
the • Miss Richland ' of the piece. In its iirst form it is to be 



found in Th'. PuUic Adnrtiot, for February 3. Tu„ .lay. 
later the play was publwhed, with the version here followed. 

I. I. An puging t/uach. Cioldnmith had devoted a fhinc»c 
letter to this subject. Sec Citizen u/ the World, 1702, ii 10 
(Letter Ixv). 

I. 17. \„, ru, ; I'm ether contests. &c. This couplet i» not in 
the hrst version. The old building of the College of Phy»ieinn» 
was in Warwick Une ; and the reference is to the long.pendihg 
dispute, (K-easionally enlivened by personal collision, betwwr the 
F-ellows and Ueentiates respecting the exclusion of certain of 
the latter from Fellowships. On this theme Bonnell Thornton 
himself an M.B. like Goldsmith, wrote a satiric additional canto 
to tiarth's Dispenmr;/. entitled The Battle of the Wig,, long 
extracts from which are printed in The Oentleman'a Magazine for 
March, 1768, p. 132. The same number also reviews The Siege of 
the CaMe of Xaadapim, an heroic Comedy, as it ta acted in War- 
tiick-Lane. Goldsmith's couplet is, however, beat illustrated by 
the title of one of Sayer's caricatures, The March -,/ the Medical 
Militants to the Siege of WarmclcLane-CaMe in the Year 1767. 
The qearrel was Hnally settled in favour of the college in June 

I. 19. Go, aak your manager. Colman, the mimiiger of Covent 
Garden, was not a prolilic, although he was a happy writer of 
prologues and epilogues. 

1. 32. The quotation is from King Lear, Act iii, Sc. 4. 

1. 34. In the first version the last line runs : — 

And virw with favour, the ' Goodnalur'd Man.' 

The Sister, produced at Covent Garden February 18, 1769, 
was a comedy by Mrs. Charlotte Lenox or Lennox, ' an ingenious 
lady,' says The Gentleman's Magazine for \,ril in the same 
year, ' well known iu the literary world by her excellent writings, 
particularly the Female Quixote, and Shakespeare illustrated. 
The audience expressed their disapprobation of it with to much 
clamour and appearance of prejudice, that she would not suffer 
an attempt to exhibit it a second time (p. 199).' According to the 



Mine authority it wm b«»«l v ' the writfr'n own novcln. 

HmrieUa. published in 1758. . . .h.. tainted with the provail- 
ind «entimentali«m. Tke Sitter u ^ cribed by Foretcr an ' both 
amuHing and interenting ' : and it ia probable that it wan not 
fairly treated when it wa» acted. Mm. Lenox (1720-1804), 
daughter of Colonel Ramsay, Lieut. -Governor of New York, 
wan a favourite with the literary magnaten of her day. Johnson 
was half aunpeoted of having helped her in her book on Shake- 
speare ; Richardson admitted her to hia readings at ParsonV 
(ireen ; Fielding, who knew her, calls her, in the Journal of a Voyage 
lo Liihon, 17M, p. 3.'5 (fir«l version), ' the inimitable author of the 
Female Quixote ' ; and Ooldamith, though he had no kmdness 
for genteel comedy (see pw/, p. 228), wrote her this lively epi- 
logue, which was spoken by Mrs. Bulkley, who personated the 
' .Miss Autumn ' of the piece. Mrs. Lenox died in extremely re- 
duced lircumstnnces, and was buried by the Right Hon. George 
Robs, who had befriended her later years. There an several 
references to her in Boswell's Life of Johnson. (See also Hawkins' 
ii/f, 2nded. 1787, pp. 285-7.) 


Z6beiie, a play by Joseph Crai '- (1742-1826), of Gumi-". 'n 
Leicestershire, was produced by tolman at Covent Garden on 
Dec. 11, 1771. It was a tranrlation from three acts of Let 
Scythes,' m unfinished tragetly by Volviire. Goldsmith was 
applied to, through the Yates's, for a prologue, and sent that 
here printed to the author of the play with thi following note :— 
' Mr. Goldsmith presents his best respecta to Mr. Cradock, has 
sent him the Prologue, such as it ia. He ca.inot take time to 
make it better. ITe begs he will give Mr. Yates the proper 
instructions ; and so, even so, commits him to fortune and the 
publick.' (Cradock's Memoirs, 1826, i. 224.) Yates, to the 
acting of whose wife in the character of the heroine the success 
of the piece, which ran for thirteen nights, was mainly attribut- 
able, was to have spoken fie prologue, but it ultimately fell to 
Quick, later the 'Tony Lu npkin ' of She Stooja t- " "qwer. who 
delivered it in the character of a sailor. Cradot.. seems sub- 



S'. »'•»""■. 1 ::). i fi.r„ y. 

Thank, to y n,u«. a for-ign oopi^.r .hiii... 
Turn d in t„ gold, and toind in „...rling lin™. 
\ou hHvc don.- to niui-h honour to un old 
Hell man of eighty. 

I am vith the moKt sinierc c«leem and 


. ,, . . ^''- oW'. Serv'. Voltwre. 

A -Monsieur Monsieur J. Cradoek. 

Jf«m«,„. 1828, ui. 8-9. It i, unnecessary to smiify the varia 
tions between thi, and the earh.r issue of 1771 

after ,?,J"' ' ^'^ "■""'"'•^ "■ '^"K'""'' 'n 'he A'»rf™.Y,„r 

r'riri^orv^^nutr:;.' '"'^"^«""'' ••' """^"^ - ">-- 

Snli.n'!; ^'^r'"; •^''•- (»ft"W«rd Sir Joseph) Banks and Ur 
So lander, of the British Museum, accompanied Cook. 

.ri;' .r;,- :r::^:;'ui^^t:^"-'""' - -"•*• ''■ ^- 

bu^y-in'^rSiml'^"'""' """^ '"« " " " «-" «"« ■^-'"- 

MJaroL-",'s- " °! "■' '"*■ '°"'"''" ««•"«' " -The -m,V„„ 
iuacarom. (bee note, p. 247 1 31 ) 

in Sc^^hiMt^S"" -"^'^ '^-^ "«- "' "■« P'"^ - '«'" 

773aT H i ."^ ^"•' "' «°'*°'»l"s not .s to Ciarrick in 
S .871!"'''*''^'"-'''°'''''^'^^ 

Mm vltrT'"' .^"^°''' «*^^ "■" P™«*» °' ^"*"''^ to 
vou'- K .'"™"'"'«1 ">« disappointment it would be to 

you -she say, m a letter to him dated April 26. 1771--' as 

ixr.s::^?;r *^' ^— >- - '-e pi j^t .:^ 




AuinuU. ifidow ol Frederick, Prince o( W.l«. .nd mother of 
(Jcorge the Third, died .t Criton Houw-. rebru.ry 8, im. 
Thi. piece WM .poken and .ung in Mm. Terei. Comelyi . Ore.t 
Room ill Soho Square, on the Thur«lay (oUowinn (the aoth), 
lieing .old at the door ai a omall quarto pamphlet, printed liy 
William Woodfall. The author', name wa» not given ! but it 
was prefaced by thi. 'advertisement.' *c. :— 

•The following may more properly be termed a compilation 
than a poem. It wa. prepared for the compo«r in little more 
than two day. : and may be con.idered therefore rather a. an 
indu.triou. effort of gratitude than of geniu.. In Ju.tice to the 
compo«er it may likewise be right to inform the pul.lic. that the 
muaic wa» adapted in a period of time equally .hort. 


Mr. Ue ami Urt. BiUamy. 
Mr Champnt,, Mr. Dine, and Miss Jameson ; ivith twelve ehoru, 
singers. The music prepared and adapted by Signor \ enlo. 

It i.-a. Cunningham call, it-a 'hurried and unworthy off- 
Bprir of ' <- muM of Goldsmith.' _ 

1 122 (fart I). CelestialUhe her bounty fdl. The PrmceM . 
benefaction, are not exaggerated. ' She had paid off the whole 
of her husband', debts, and she had given munificent sum. m 
charity. More than lO.OOOf. a year were given away by her in 
pensions t« individuals whom she judged dererving. very few 
of whom were aware, until her death, whence the bounty came. 
The whole of her income she .pent in England, andjery little 
on herself {AugusU,: Princes, of Wales, by W. H. Wilkin., 
Nineteenth Century, October, 1903, p. 675). 

1 132 There faith shaU come. ThU, and the three lines that 
follow, are borrowed from CoUins's Ode written in the beginmng of 

the year 1746. , „. ,_ ^ . 

1 "2 (Part IT). The towers of Kew. ' The embellishments of 

Kew palace and garden., under the direction of [Sir William] 



. 18. 

HighMH ,] widowhood • (Bolton C'orn^y) ' ^ 

. 83. O^ , i,t„ry a„„. a. Tkt Tra if//,,. \.4U 

1- 117. lU „HuM Unom. a. Collin,-. Dirge in CymMinr 


rR<>.M ' BRE STOOPS TO roNQrWL" tJlTlf r '''""•"-"' "«»"?• '<" • l»»"'l to which 
-.t « too g«xJ tc have b«.n con.po.ed by Tony Lumpkin who 

inTcu t fo " 'rr ""I r""-« •"" • pr'-'h.nd.'^ dc":"::; 

t u,«„ ,K ■ 1 '" '" '^'""'•'"- ""• "'»« he himwlf made 

■t upon the .le ,.„ (■ The Three Pigeon. •) in which he .in^ 

Van „f « ■**"" ^^^ """»'»>"»l«t.. who. in n. 0<«d A-^„ 'J 

^m;'.cen.^r" '*'""• "«■ *" ■«• "Po- «- --n of th' 

Bravo, bravo ! 

first Fellow. 
The 'Squire ha. got .punk in him. 

Seecmd Fellow. 

•four/A Fellow. 

that a gentleman bee, in a concatenation accordingly. 
Third Fellow. 

Obliji'jerf"!'' H """^ °i"' ""'" ^'-KK™- W"""- "><>• I »» 

tti M .^'^* •*"■ * "*" ""y '>« » 8^""™" for .11 
that. May th,, be my poi,o„ if my bear ever dance, but to 




Water Parted ', or the minuet in 

the very genteelest of tunes. 

19. When Mtlhodut preachers, Sic. Tony Lumpltin » utter- 

ance accurately reDresentB the view of this sect taken by some 
of his contemporaries. While moderate and just spectators of 
the Johnson type could recognize the sincerity of men, who, Uke 
Wesley, travelled ' nine hundred miles in a month, and preached 
twelve times a week ' for no ostensibly-adequate reward, there 
were others who saw in Methodism, and especially m the ex- 
travagancies of its camp followers, nothing but cant and duplicity- 
It was this which prompted on the stage Foote's Minor (1760) 
and Bickerstaffe's Hypocrite ( 1768) ; in art the CredulUy, SuperiU- 
lion, and Fanaticism of Hogarth (1762); and in literature the 
New Bath Guide of Anstey ( 1766), the Spiritual Quizole of Graves, 
1772, and the sarcasms of Sterne, Smollett and Walpole. 

It is notable that the most generous contemporary portrait 
of these much satiri^ sectaries came from one of the originals 
of the Rttaliati-n gallery. Scolt highly praises the character 
of Ezekiel Daw in Cumberland's Henry, 1795, adding, in his large 
impartial fashion, with reference to the general practice of repre- 
senting Methodists either as idiots or hypocrites, ' A very different 
feeling is due to many, perhaps to most, of this enthusiastic sect ; 
nor is it rashly to be inferred, that he who makes religion the 
general object of his life, is for that sole reason to be held "ther a 
fool or an impostor.' (Scott's Miscellaneous Prose Works, 1834, 

iii. 222.) 

1 23 But ot all the birds in the air. Hyporcriticism may 
object that • the hare ' is not a bird. But exigence of rhyme 
has to answer for many things. Some editors needlessly read 
' the gay birds ' to lengthen the line. There is no sanction for 
this in the earlier editions. 

This epilogue was spoken by Mrs. Bulklcy in the character of 

Miss Hardcastle. It is probably the epilogue described by 
' i.e. Arne's WaUr Parted from the Sea.-the: song of Arbaces in the 

oncra of irlaxerie-. 1762. The minuet in Artadne was by Handel 

JJ^ame .t the end'of the overture, and is said to have been the bet 

thiDg in the opera. 



Goldsmith to Cradock, in the letter quoted at p 246 a« • « 
very mawkish thing.' a phrase not so incontestable as'Cton 
^^rneys remark that it is 'an obvious imitation of Shake 

/ ';/ 'l^*?^ '"'"^, havt done execution. Cf. The Viear 
at first ; but often did mot« certain execution ' * 

1. 16. coqmls the guests. Johnson explains this word 'to 
en ertam wjth compliments and amorous tattle.' and quotes the 
followmg .llustration from Swift. 'You are cojuetti^ a ml 
of honour, my lord looking on to see how the gamesters play 
and I railmg at you both.' ^ ^' 

and dancer, who died at Haverstock Hill. May 27 
1767 and was bur.ed behind the Foundling, in the burial-grourj 

aid tJ^T " ^'"'^- ^'"' ""* "PP^'-^d "t Sadler's W.-lls, 
and speedily passed to the stage of Covent Garden, where she 

Garnck Club, and there are several contemporary prints. She 
was the herome of a popular song, here rekrZ ti ^ginning:- 
Of all the girls in our town. 
The black, the fair, the red, the brown. 
Who dance and prance it up and down] 
There 's none like Nancy Dawson : 
Her easy mien, her shape so neat, 
She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet, 
Her ev'ry motion is complete ; 
I die for Nancy Dawson. 

SterS'""' ' ™ "" "'"'^ •"' ""•' "' "«" KoK" «-> 

Gliick* oS,''i?64':*' ""' '"'"' '"'"""• "■" '"™'y '^-»' '«"- 
1. 28. theHeinel of Cheapside. The reference is to Mademoi- 
selle Anna-Frederica Heinel. 1752-1808, a beautiful Prussian 
subsequently the wife of Gaetano Apollino Balthazar Vestris." 
galled Vestns the First.' After extraordinary success as . 
danseuse at Stuttgard and Paris, where Walpole saw her in 1771 


(Letter to the Earl of Strafford 25th August), she had come to 
London; and, at thU date, was the darling of the Macaronies 
{of. the note on p. 247, 1. 31), who, from their club, added a regaUo 
(present) of six hundred pounds to the salary allowed her at 
the Haymarltet. On April 1, 1773, Metastaaio's Artaaerte 
was performed for her benefit, when she was announced to dance 
a minuet with Monsieur Fierville, and ' Tickets were to be had, at 
her house in Piccadilly, two doors from Air Street.' 

1. 31. apadille, i. e. the ace of spades, the first trump in the 
game of Ombre. Cf. Swift's Journal of a Modem Lady in a 
Letter to a Person of Quality, 1728 :— 

She draws up card by card, to find 
Good fortune peeping from behind ; 
With panting heart, and earnest eyes. 
In hope to see spadillo rise ; 
In vain, alas ! her hope is fed ; 
She draws an ace, and sees it red. 
1. 35. Bayet. The chief character in Buckingham's Rehearsal, 
1672 and intended for John Dryden. Here the name is put for 
the ' poet • or ' dramatist.' Cf. Murphy's Epilogue to Cradock's 
Zobeide, 1771 :— 

Not e'en poor Bayea within must hope to be 
Free from the lash :— His Play he writ for me 
'Tis true—' nd now my gratitude you'll see ; 
and Colman's Epilogue to The School for Scandal, 1777 :— 
So wills our virtuous bard— the motley Bayea 
Of crying epilogues and laughing plays ! 

Retaliation: A Poem. By Doctor OOdmUh. Including Epitaphs 
on the Moat Dialinguiahed Wita of this Metropolit, was first pub- 
lished by G. Kearsly in April, 1774, as a 4to pamphlet of 24 pp. 
On the title-page is a vignette head of the author, etched by 
James Basire, after Reynolds's portrait ; and the verses are pre- 
faced by an anonymous letter to the publisher, concluding as 
follows :— ' Dr. Goldsmith bdonged to a Club o/ Beaux Esprits, 
where WU aparUed aometimea at the Expence of dood-nature. 



It m, proposed to mitt Epitaph, on the Doctor ; hi. Country 
VuUkI and Per«m. furniehed Subjects of Witticism—The 

fT J?» "!^f °" 'Z «*""'"'""■ -"^ <" ""ir nen Meeting 
produced the foUomng Poem, which I think adds o« Leal to his 
.mmorW Wreath.' This account seems to hare sufficed for 
Evans, Percy, and the earlier editors. But in vol. i. p 78 of 
his ed^ion of Goldsmith's Works. 1854, Mr. Peter Cunningham 
pubhshed for the first time a fuller version of the circumstances 
derived from a manuscript lent to him by Mr. George Daniel 
of Islmgton; and (says Mr. Cunningham) 'evidently designed 
M • preface to a collected edition of the poems which grew out 
of Goldsmiths trying his epigrammatic powere with Garrick • 
It .8 signed D. Garrick.' ' At a meeting '-says the writer- 
of a company of gentlemen, who were well known to each other 
and diverting themselves, among many other things, with the' 
peculiar oddities of Dr. Goldsmith, who would never allow a 
superior m any art. from writing poetry down to dancing a bora- 
pipe, the Dr. with great eagerness insisted upon trying his 
epigrammatic powers with Mr. Garrick, and each of them was 
to write the other's epitaph. Mr. Garrick immediately said 

J^tm^K-- "'" *"'"'"*''' '"'* '^''^ *''* '°"°'''"« *'•'"'' 

Here lies Nolly Goldsaiith, for shortness call'd Noll 
Who wrote like an angel, but talk'd like poor Poll. 

Goldsmith, upon the company's laughing very heartily, grew 
very thoughtful, and either would not, or could not, write any- 
thing at that time : however, he went to work, and some weeks 
after produced the following printed poem called Belaliation 
which has been much admired, and gone through several editions ' 
This account, though obviously from Garrick's point of view is 
now accepted as canonical, and has superseded those of Davies 
Cradock, Cumberland, and others, to which some reference is 
made in the ensuing notes. 

A few days after the publication of the first edition, which 

appeared on the 18th or 19th of April, a ' new ' or second edition 

was issued, with four pages of ' Explanatory Notes Observa 

tions 4o.' At the end came the following announcement :- 

G. Kearsly, the Publisher, thinks it his duty to declare, that 



Dr. Goldsmith wrote the Poem as it U here printed, a few errors 
of the press excepted, which are taken notice of at the bottom 
of this page.' From this version Retaliation is kere reproduced. 
In the third edition, probably in deference to some wounded 
susceptibilities, the too comprehensive ' most Distinguished Wits 
of the Metropolis ' was qualified into ' f^me of the most Dis- 
tinguished Wita,' &c., but no further material alteration was 
made in the text until the suspicious lines on Caleb Whitefoord 
were added to the fifth edition. 

With the exception of Garrick's couplet, and the fragment of 
Whitefoord referred to at p. 234, none of the original epitaphs 
upon which Goldsmith was invited to 'retaliate' have sur- 
vived. But the unexpected ability of the retort seems to 
have prompted a number of ex post faUo performances, some of 
which the writers would probably have been glad to pass oft as 
their first essays. G^rrick, for example, produced three short 
pieces, one of which (' Here, Hermes ! says Jove, who with 
nectar was mellow ') hits off many of Goldsmith's contradictions 
and foibles with considerable skill (v. Davies's danick, 2nd ed., 
1780, ii. 157). Cumberland (». Gent. Mag., Aug. 1778, p. 384) 
patodied the poorest part of Retaliation, the comparison of the 
guests to dishes, by likening them to liquors, and Dean Barnard 
in return rhymed upon Cumberland. He wrote also an apology 
for his first attack, which is said to have been very severe, and 
conjured the poet to set his wit at Garrick, who, having fired 
his first shot, was keeping out of the way ;— 
On him let all thy vengeance fall ; 

On me you but misplace it : 
Remember how he called thee Poll — 
But, ah ! he dares not face it. 
For these, and other forgotten pieces arising out of Retaliation, 
Garrick had apparently prepared the above-mentioned intro- 
duction. It may be added that the statement, prefixed to the 
first edition, that Retaliation, as we now have it, was produced 
at the ' next meeting ' of the Club, is manifestly incorrect. It was 
composed and circulated in detached fragments, and Goldsmith 
was still working at it when he was seized with his last illness. 
1. 1. 0/ old, when Scarron, &c. Paul Scarron (1610-60), the 
author inter alia of the Roman Comique, 1631-7, upon a translation 



of which Goldsmith was occupied during ,he last months of hia 
life. It was published by firiffin in 1776. "'os ot ma 

I. 2. Each guest brought hia dish. ' Chez Scarron • „™ y 
editor, M. Charles Baumet. when speaking oTrLT^Tntr 
tammenu.-- venait d'aiUeurs I'elite des dames drdur, sans 
& des hommes de lettres. On y dinait joyeus me" . CW„„ 
apvortausonjial.' {(Euvre, de Scarron, isil i v^r ScIrZ- 
company must have been a, brilliant 'as "dsmfsvl; 
ceaux. V.vonne, the Mar^chal d'Albret, figured in his lis o 
courtiers; while for ladies he had Mesdames De^houlL« de 
Scudiry de la Sabliire, and de S^vigne, to say nothing of Ni'non 

t'tz. is^rrsor™^- ''' ""° ^"'-*' '-"^- 

I. 3. // our landlord. The ' explanatory note ' to the second 
edition says-- The master of the St. James's coff« hlse 

Plm hi.'"' ""' ''" '"^""^ ""^ "'«' eharaeteri JinTh s' 
Poem, held an occasional club.' This, it should be stated, was 

Tavern nT" ^'T^ '""•' ""'"'' °"" "' ^^e Turk's H^ 
Tavern in Gerrard Street. The St. James's Coffee-house as 

Goldsmith and his friends at the end of the eighLnth cenrunr 

s"lt i:n„r^"'°"^°"''"^'°"'''-"^»'™™"°fS'-«^^^^^^^^ 
V,7.Z "■"""^''"'"''Bcrexists. Crado^k (ilf™o.„, 1826, i. 228- 

B^^a'rJ H ?.' """^"^'^ ("• •■»/"). Johnson, Garrick. Dean 
aimari, and others. ' We sat very late ; ' he adds in cone uaion! 

of mv fr«rT'°"J'''' "' '"' ™'"«'' ''- •"'' direct cau" 
of my friend Goldsmith's poem, called "Retaliation." ' 

tit fv^ ' f ^"- '^'■- '^°"'^ ^™"d' »° l™hman, at this 
^meDeanofDerry. He died at Wimbledon in 180, ^tZl 
Dr. Barnard who, in reply to a rude sally of Johnson te the 
.harming^verses on improvement after the age of forty five! 

If I have thoughts, and can't express them. 
Gibbon shUl teach me how to dress them. 

In terms select and terse ; 
Jones teach mo modesty and Greek 
Smith how to think, Burke how to'speak. 

And Beauclerk to converse. 




Let Johnson teach me how to place 
In fairest light, each borrow'd grace. 

From him I'll learn to write ; 
Copy his clear, familiar style. 
And from the roughness of his file 
Grow like himself— polite. 
(Northcote's i./. of SeynMs. 2nd ed., 1810. i. 221.) According 
to Cumberland (Jftmoir., 1807, i. 370), ' Tl.e dean also gave him 
[Gildsmith] an epitaph, and Sir Joshua illuminated the dean s 
verses with a sketch of his bust in pen and ink inimitably cari- 
catured.' What would collectors give for that sketch and 
epitaph! Unfortunately in Cumberland's septuagenarian re- 
collections the ' truth severe ' is mingled with an unusual amount 
of ' fairy fiction.' However Sir Joshua did draw caricatures, 
for a number of them were exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery 
(by the Duke of Devonshire) in the winter of 1883-4. 

1. 6. Our Burke. The Right Hon. Edmund Burke, 1729-97. 
17 OurWai. 'Mr. William Burke, late Secretary to General 
Conway, and member for Bedwin, Wiltshire' (Note co second 
edition). He was a kinsman of Edmund Burke, and one of the 
supposed authors of Junius's LeUeri,. He died in 1798. ' It is 
said that the notices Goldsmith first wrote of the Burkes W3reso 
severe that Hugh Boyd persuaded the poet to alter them, and 
entirely i^write the character of William, for he was sure that if 
the Burkes saw what was originally ritten of them the peace 
of the aub would be disturbed.' (Rev. W. Hunt in Diet. Nat. 
Biography, Art. ' William Burke.') 

1. 8. And "ici. Richard Burke, Edmund Burke's younger 
brother. He was for some years Collector to the Customs at 
Grenada, being on a visit to London when Rtlalialion was written 
(Forster's Lift, 1871, ii. 404). He died in 1794, Recorder of 

Bristol. ■ , J .1. 

1 9 Our Cumberland's meetbread. Richard Cumberland, the 
po^t, novelist, and dramatist, 1732-1811, author of The West 
Indian, 1771, The Faahianable Lover, 1772, and many other 
more or less sentimental plays. In his Memoirs, 1807, i. 369- 
71 he gives an account of the origin of Retaliation, which adds 
a few dubious particulars to that of Garrick. But it was written 
from memory long after the events it records. 



1. 10. Douglw,. ' Dr. Douglu, ,i„ce Bishop of Salisbury,' uy. 
Cumberland. Hedied in 1807 (r. w/ro). ^ 

,„'■.!.*■ i*-'^'',. ' *?•"■"»«"<"■ J"'"' Ridge. . gentleman belonging 
^ he I„,h Bar- {Note to seeond edition). 'Burke.' ,.,! 

and best-natured men living, and inferior to none of his profes- 
sion in ability." (See also note to line 125.) 

I. 15. Hifiey. The commentator of the second edition of 
BMalion m\h this gentleman 'honest Tom Hickey' His 
Christian name, however, was Jo,eph (Letter of Burke. Novem- 
Mrs, 1774). He was a jovial, good-natured, over-blunt Irishman, 
the legal adviser of both Burke and Reynolds. Indeed it was 
Hiokey who drew the conveyance of the land on which Reynolds', 
house next to the Star and Garter ' at Richmond (Wick House) 
wag by Chambers the architect. Hickey died in 1794 
Reynold, painted hi, portrait for Burke, and it was exhibite<i 
at the Royal Academy in 1772 (No. 208). In 1833, it belonged 

1769-73. Her father, not much to Goldsmith's satisfaction 
wM^one of the Pari, party in 1770. See also note to 

1. 16. Magnanimow, OMmiih. According to Malone (Rey- 
nolds, Wori,, second edition, 1801, i. ,c). Goldsmith intended 
to have concluded with his own character. 

I. 34. Tommy Towmhend. M.P. for Whitchurch. Hamp.,hire 
afterwards first Viscount Sydney. He died in TO. Junius' 
rays Bolton Comey, gives a portrait of him as il' life His 
presence in Retaliation is accounted for by the fact that he had 
commented in Parliament upon Johnson's pension. 'I am 
well assured.' says Boswell, 'that Mr. Townshcnd's attack 
upon Johnson was the occasion of hi, " hitching in a rhyme " • 
for, that m the original copy of Goldsmith', character of Mr' 
Burke, in hi. Retaliation, another perron's name stood in the 
couplet where Mr. Townshend i, now introduced.' (Birkbeck 
HiH'b Bomell, 1887, iv. 318.) 

1. 3.5. loo deep for hi, hearer,. 'The emotion to which he 
commonly appealed was that too rare one. the love of wisdom 
and he combined his thought, and knowledge in proposition, of 
wisdom so weighty and strong, that the mind, of ordinary hearer. 



wen not on the taitmt prepMed for them.' (Morley'e Burke, 
I Bflo onft— 10 \ 

1 36. And thought of emvincinj, «*tf« thty thought of dining. 
For the reMon given in the previou. note, mmy of Burke • 
hearen often took the opportunity of hU to epeak. to 
retire to dinner. Thu» he acquired the nickname of the Dinner 


1 42. To tat mutton aid. There i. a certain re«mblance 
between thi. character and Gray', line, on hinuelf written in 
1761. beginning * Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to impor- 
tune.' (See aoMe'.On.»'. Fort., 1884, 1127.) But both Gray 
and GoIdBmith may have been think ng of a Une in the once 
popular long of AUy Croaker :— 

Too dull for a wit, too grave for a joker. 
1. 43. honel WiUiam, i. e. William Burke (v. supra). 
1 54 Now breaking a jtH, and noa breaking a limb. A note 
to'the Mcond ediUon My.-' The above Gentleman [Richard 
Burke. V. lupra] having .lightly fractured .me of hi. arm., and 
leg., at different time., the Doctor [i.e. Gold.mith] aa. rallied 
him on thoM accidento, «« a kind of rHribulive justice for break- 
ing his jesto on other people.' , , , •/ / 

1. 61. Here Cumberland lies. Accoiding to Boaden . ti/« o/ 
KanUe, 1828, i. 438, Mrs. Plozzi rightly regarded thi. portrait 
a. wholly ironical ; and Bolton Corney, without much expendi- 
ture of acumen, discover, it to have been written in a .pint of 
■persifage. Nevertheless, CumberUnd himself (IfemotM, 1807, i. 
369) seem, to have accepted it in good faith'. Speaking of 
Goldsmith he say.-' I conclude my account of him with gratitude 
for the epitaph he bestowed on me in hU poem called Retaliation. 
From the further detail, which he give, of the oircumetances, it 
would appear that his own performance, of which he could recaU 
but one line — 

All mourn the poet, I lament the man— 
wa. conceived in a les. malicious spirit than those of the others, 
and had predisposed the Mn.itive bard in his favour. But no 
very genuine cordiality could be expected to exist between the 
rival author, of The West Indian and She Sloops to Conquer. 
I. 66. And Comedy umders at being so fine. It is ingtruetiv. 

NOTES 229 

here to timnicribe Gold.mith', «riou, opinion of the kind ol 
work Cun.berl.nd .«yed :-• A new .pe ic. of Dn!m.«c 

Fault, of M.nkmd, our intereet ... the piece. . . . I„ ,he« 
Pl.y. .lmo.t .11 the Ch.r«ter. .re good, .nd exceed ngT? 

&r;™^ »h<'»gl' they w.nt Humour, .bund.nce of 

.™^d ,h ^'^••'o' '• «•»«" not only to p.rdon. but to 

c™«i/ ^' . " ^ **'"» "*""'«'• » ™°"»^nded. .ad the 
Comedy .,™ ,t touching .ar P«.ion. without the power of 

.t,o*th P r""""l '»'"""■»-- ^'•»«»».. 1772. i. 8.) Cf 

th.t ^T'T «" ^*' ""^ ''°""''' ^''»- """• •>« 'hope- 
th.t too much refimment will not h.niBh humour «.d oh.r.c^r 

Indeed the Freach comedy i. now become ,o very elev.ted .nd 
aenfment.!. th.t it h.. not only,hed humour .nd Mct^e 
,1 'iT ^"' '' '■" •»"''''«' «" 'Pectatom too.- 

John DouglM [V. supra) dtatinguished himwlf by hiB expoeure of 
two of hi. countrymen. Archibald Bower. 1686-1766, who^ being 

P^; and W.lham Under 1710-1771. who attempted to pLe 
Milton a plagiarist. Cf. Churchill's Ohott, Bk. ii :-. 

By Tbutf inspir'd, when Lauder's spight 
O'er Milton cast the Veil of Night. 
DOPOLAS arose, and thro' the maze 
Of intricate winding ways, 
Came where the subtle Traitor lay. 
And dragg'd him trembling to the day. 

'Lauder on Milton ' is one of the books bound to the trunk- 
maker s m Hogarth's 5«r StreH, 1751. He imposed on Johnson. 

Ch-lvM , /" " ^"''^ ' ^"^ """ ^n^q^'-Uy trcunced by 
Churchill (ut supra) as ' our LMer'd Polyphemis ' 

1. 86. Our Dodds shaU be pious. The reference is to the Rev. 


Dr. WillUm Dodd, who three ye»n »fter the publicUion of 
SHalMim (i.e. June 27, 1777) wai hanged at Tyburn for forging 
the .ignaturo of the «fth Earl of Cheiterfield. to whom he bad been 
tutor. Hie life previou»ly had long been ecandaloui enough to 
Justify Goldimith'e words. Johnion made itrenuoua and humane 
exertions to lave Dodd'a life, but without avail. (See Birkbeck 
Hill'. Boiintll, 1887, iii. 139-48.) There i» an account of Dodd • 
execution at the end of vol. i of Angelo'e SminiKtnca, 1830. 

our Kenrkks. Dr. William Kenrick-»ay the earlii . iiiiota- 
ton-who 'read lecturei at the DevU Tavern, under the Title of 
• The ichool of Shakeepeare.'" The lecture* began January 
19, 1774, and help to fix the date of the poem. Goldsmith 
had little reason for liking tbU versatile and unprincipled Ish- 
maelite of letters, who, only a year before, had penned a scurrilous 
attack upon him in Tht London Pacta. Kenrick died in 1779. 
1. 87. JI/ocp»«r»on. ' David [James] Macpherson, Esq. ; who 
lately, from the mere force of hit lyli, wrote down the first poet 
of all antiquity." (Note to second edition.) ThU was ' Ossian ' 
Macpherson, 1738-96, who. in 1773. had followed ui hi* Erse 
epics by a prose translation of Homer, which brought him little 
but opprob.ium. ' Your abilities. *ince your Homer, are not so 
formidable.' says Johnson in the knockdown letter which he 
addressed to him in 1775. (Birkbeck HUl's BotuM. 1887. 
ii. 298.) 
1. 88. Our Toumthend. See note to line 34. 
1. 89. New Laudert and Boaeri. See note to I. 80. 
I. 92. And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark. 
Mitford compares Farquhar's Lorn and a BoOle, ltl99. Act iii— 

But gods meet gods and jostle in the dark. 
But Farquhar was quoting from Dryden and lee's Oedipiu, 
1679, Act iv (at end). 

I. 93. Here liea David Oarrick. ' The sum of all that can be 
said for and against Mr. Garrick. some people think, may be 
found in these lines of Goidamith,' writes Davies in hU Ufe of 
Oarrick, 2nd ed., 1780, ii. 169. Posterity has been leas hesitating 
in ita verdict. ' The lines on Garrick," says Forster, Ufe of 
GolAmWi. 1871. u. 409, ' are quite perfect writing. Without 
anger, the satire U finished, keen, and uncompromising ; the wit 
is adorned by moat discriminating praise; and the truth is 



only th« mon> uiupving for it. .xqutaite good mannen .nd 
good tute. 
1. 115. re Kenricla. Sec note to line 86. 
If. /feffy,. Hugh Kelly (1739-1777). an Iriihrniin. the author 
of r^ -y^xcacy, 17(18 ; A Word to tk, Wi„, 1770 ; Tkt Sth.i 
lor Wxm, 1774, and other ' wnlimental dramaa.' ia here referred 
ta Hia fint play, which ia deacribed in Garricit'. prologue aa 
a Sermon,' 'prewjh'd in Acta,' waa produced at Drury Une 
ju.t aix daya before Goldimilh'a comedy of Tht Good Natur'd 
Man appeared at Covent Garden, and obtained a auccew which 
„.'■ •'!*•"** '"'•« iWieocy-iaid Johnaon truly (Birkbcck 
Hill. Bo«««, 1887, U. «)-'wa. totally void of oharacter,'- 
a cruabing accuaation to make againat a drama. But Garrick 
for hi. private end., had taken up Kelly aa a rival to Gold.mith i 
and the eomidu ,irieu4f or larmoyanle of La Chau.wie, Sedaine 
and Diderot had alr^y found voUrio. in Engand. Falu 
DauMg. weak, waah/, and invertebrate a. it waa, completed 
the tran.formatioa of 'genteel' ii.^o 'wntimental' comedy, 
and eatabliahing that gtnrt for the nent few yean, effectually 
reUrded the wholesome reaction toward, humour and character 
which Goldamith had tried to promote by Tkt Good Xalnr-d 
Man. (See note to I. 66.) 

Wood/Ml. -William Woodfall '-^ly, Bolton Corney- 
aucc«aively editor of Tke London Pacta and Tkt Morning 
CkronuJe. wa. matchlew aa a reporter of apeeche., and an able 
theatncal critic. He made lofty pretension, to editorial im- 
part»lity-but the «:tor [i. e. Garrick] wa. not <■/««,, aatisficd.' 
He died m 1803. He mu.t not be confounded with Henry 
p^P""" Woodfall, the editor of Juniu.'. Ltttera. (See note to 

I. 120. To aa at an angel. There U a sub-ironic touch in 
thu phrase which should not be overlooked. C(. 1. 10-2. 

1.125. Hart aictey reclines. See note to 1. 16. In Cumber- 
land a Poelic^ EpiMe to Dr. OohhrnUk ; or Supplement to kis 
KelaluUion {OtnlUman'a Magazine, Aug. 1778, p. 384) Hiokey's 
genial qualitie. are thu. referred to :— 

Give RiDoE and Hicky, generous eoula ! 
Of WHiSKxr PUNCH convivial bowls. 
1. IM. a tpecini -y. A .pecial attorney waa merely an 



•ttorney who pnotiacd in one court only. The ■pecln Is now 
■aid to bo eitlnot, 

1. 13A. burn yt. Th« Minotator of the Moond edition, (pologil- 
ing for thie ' forced ' rhyme to 'attorney,' infomw the Engliib 
reader that the phnue of ' bum ye ' la ' a familiar method of 
lalutation in Ireland amonget the lower claMwt of the people.' 

I. 137. Hert KrynoUs it laid. Thi» aharee the palm with the 
admirable eoitaph* on Oarrick and Burke. But Qotdamith 
loved Reyr ., and there are no aatirio itrokei in the picture. 
If we are W believe Malone (Reynoldi'a Worlu, Koond edition, 
1801, i. lo), ' theee were the but line* the author wrote.' 

1. 140. bland. Blalone («« mpra, Ixxxix) notee thie word as 
' eminently happy, and characteriatick of hia [Reynolde'e] eaay 
and placid mannen.' Boawell (Dedication of Lift o/ Johnsm) 
refer* to hii ' equal and pUcid temper.' Cf. alio Dean Barnard's 
verses (Northcote's U/e of Seyiuld; 2nd ed., 1810, 1. 220), and 
Mrs. Hold's line* in her AvUbiojn^y, Bud ed., 1(161, ii. 175-6. 
1. 146. He shijlid kit trumptt. Whuv. studying Raphael in 
the Vatican in 1761, Reynolds caught so severe a cold ' as to 
occasion b deafness which oW '" Sim to use an ear-trumpet 
for the remainder of his life. aylor and Leslie's Keynddt, 
1865, i. 00.) This instrument ures in a portrait of himself 
which he painted for Thrale a. jt 1775. See also Zofisny'i 
picture of the ' Aci lemicians gaUored about the model in tha 
Life School at Somerset House," 1772, where he is shown employ- 
ing it to catch the conversation of Wilton and Chambers. 

an .' only look tnvff. Sir Joshua was a great snuH-taker. 
His sni-i' "loi, described in the Catalogue as the one ' immor- 
tsliied in Goldsmith's Ketttliation,' was exhibited, with his 
spectacles and other personal relics, at the Groevenor Gallery 
in 1883-4. In the early editions this epitaph breaks off abruptly 
at the word ' snuff.' But Malone says that half a line more 
had been written. Prior gives this half line as ' By flattery 
unspoiled—,' and affirms that among several erasures in the 
manui.;ript sketch devoted to Reynolds it ' remained unaltered.' 
(ii/e, 1837, ii. 499.) See notes to ii. 53, 56, and 91 of The Haunrh 
of Fen' )». 

I. 14 ;. Here WhiUfoori redinet. The circumstance whirh led 
to the insertion of these lines in the fifth edition are detailed in 



the pnhtury wonfa ol the puMl»her given at p. B2. Then 
ie more thui a •lupicion that Whltelooid wrote them himKlf ; 
but they have too long been accepted ai an appendage to the 
poem to be now displaced. Caleb Whitefoord (born I7M) waa 
a Scotchman, a wlnemerehant, and an art connoiMeur, to whom 
J. T. Smith, in bia Uft of NoUtkttu, 1828, i. 333-41, devote* 
Hveral pagea. He wa» one of the party at the 8t. Jamei'a 
CoHeehouH. He died in 1810. Th '• a caricature of him in 
'Connoiaaeun inipecting a Collection of George Horland,' 
November, 16, 1807 ; and WUItie'a UUtr of ItUroiutlitm, 1814, 
wa* a reminiscence of a visit which, when he lint came to London, 
he paid to Whitefooid. He waa also painted by Reynolds and 
Stuart. Hewioa's Whiltfoord Paptrt, 1898, throw no light upon 
the story of the epitaph. 

I. 148. a gmvt man. Cf. Romeo and JtiiH, Act iii, 8c. 1 :— 
* Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a gravt man.' 
This Shakespearean recollection is a little like Goldsmith's way. 
(See note to Tht Haunch u/ I'tnuon, 1. 120.) 

I. ISO. and rejoie'd in a pun. ' Mr. W. is so notorious a punster, 
that Doctor Goldsmith used to say, it was impossible to keep 
him company, without being inftettd with the Uch of punning.' 
(Note to fifth edition.) 

I. ISO. ' if the table heielona roar.' Cf. Hamlet, Act v, Sc. 1. 

1. 162. Woodfall. i. e. Henr Sampson Woodfall, printer of The 
Public Advertiaer. He died ■-, 1805. (See note to I. US.) 

I. 170. CroM- Headings, Ship-News, and Mistakes of the Press. 
Over the iwm de gj:2ne of 'Papyrius Cursor,' a real 
Roman name, but as happy in its applicability as Thackeray's 
' Manlius Fennialinus,' Whitefoord contributed many specimens 
of this mechanic wit to The Public Advertiser. The 'Croea 
Readings ' were obtained by taking two or three columns of 
a newspaper horizontally and onuanfa instead of verticttllg and 
downwards, thus : — 

Colds caught at this season are 
the Companion to t.he Playhouse. 

To be sold to the best Bidder, 
My seat in Parliament being vacated. 



A more elaborate example is 

On Tuesday an address was presented ; 
it unhappily missed fire and the villain made off, 
when the honour of knighthood was conferred on him 
to the great joy of that noble family 
Goldsmith was hugely delighted with Whitefoord's 'lucky 
inventions' when they first became popular in 1766. 'He 
declared, in the heat of hU admiration of them, it would have 
given him more pleasure to have been the author of them than 
of all the works he had ever published of hU own' (Northcote's 
Life of Reynddo, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 217). What is perhaps more 
remarkable is, that Johnson spoke of Whitefoord's performances 
M 'ingenious and diverting' (Birkbeck Hill's BomeU, 1887, 
iv 322) ; and Horace Walpole laughed over them till he cried 
(Letter to Montagu, December 12, 1766). To use Voltaire's 
witticism, he is Men t^eureux who can laugh now. It may bo 
added that Whitefoord did not, as he claimed, originate the 
'Cross Readings.' They had been anticipated in No. 49 of 
Harrison's spurious TaUer, vol. v [1720]. 

The fashion of the 'Ship-News ' was in this wise : 'August 25 
[1765]. We hear that his Majestys Ship Neuxasde will soon have 
a new figurehead, the old one being almost worn out.' ^ The 
' Mistakes of the Press ' explain themselves. (See also Smith's Lije 
oj NoUekens, 1828, i. 336-7 ; Debrett's New FmvMing Hospital 
for Wit, 1784, vol. ii, and OenUeman'a Magazine, 1810, p. 300.) 

1. 172. That a Scot may have, humour, I had almost said wit. 
Goldsmith,— if he wrote these verses,— must have forgotten that 
he had already credited Whitefoord with ' wit ' in 1. 153. 

1. 174. Thou beet hunumr'd man with the worst humour'd muse. 
Cf. Rochester of Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset :— 
The best good man, with the worst-natur'd muse. 
Whitefoord's contribution to the epitaphs on Goldsmith is 
said to have been unusually sevcre,-so severe that four only of 
its eight lines are quoted in the Whitefoord Papers. 1898, the rest 
being ' unfit for publication ' (p. xxvii). He afterwards addressed 
a metrical apology to Sir Joshua, which is printed at pp. 217-8 
of Northcote's Life, 2nd ed., 1819. See also Forster's OOdsmUh, 
1871, ii. 408-9. 



Boswell, to whom we are indebted for the preservation of this 
lively song, sent it to The London Magazine for June, 1774 
(vol. xliii, p. 296), with the following :— 

' To the Editor of The London Magazine. 
Sir,— I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, 
which has never been published, and which might perhaps have 
been totally lost bad I not secured it. He intended it as a song 
in the character of Miss HardcaMle, in his admirable comedy, 
She stoopn to conquer j but it wag left out, as Mrs. Bulkley who 
played the part did not sing. He sung it himself in private 
companies very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called 
The Humours of Batamagairy, to which, he told me, he found it 
very difficult to adapt words ; but he hag succeeded happily 
in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of 
them, he was so good as to give me them about a year ago, just 
as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, 
little apprehending that it wag a last farewell. I preserve this 
little relick in bis own handwriting with an affectionate care. 
I am. Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 

James Boswell.* 
When, seventeen years later, Boswell published his Life of 
Samuel Johnson, LL.D., he gave an account of his dining at 
General Oglethorpe's in April, 1773, with Johnson and Gold- 
smith ; and he says that the latter sang the Three Jolty Pigeons, 
and this song, to the ladies in the tea-room. Croker, in a note, 
adds that the younger Colman more appropriately employed the 
' essentially low comic ' air for Looney Mactwolter in the [Review; 
or the] Wags of Windsor, 1808 [i.e. in that character's song 
beginning—' Oh, whack ! Cupid 's a mannikin '], and that Moore 
tried to bring it into good company in the ninth number of the 
Irish Melodies. But Croker did not admire the tune, and thought 
poorly of Goldsmith's words. Yet they are certainly fresher 
than Colman's or Moore's : — 

Sing — sing — Music was given. 

To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving ; 
Souls here, like planets in Heaven, 
By harmony's laws alone are kept moving, &c. 



These lines, which appear at p. 312 of vol. v of the History of 
the Earth and AninuUed Nature. 1774, are freely translated from 
some Latin verses by Addison in No 412 of the Spectator, where 
they are introduced as follows :-' Thus we see that every djfler- 
ent Species of sensible Creatures has its different Notions of 
Beauty, and that each of them is most affected with the Beauties 
of its own kind. This is nowhere more remarkable than in Birds 
of the same Shape and Proportion, where we often see the Male 
determined in his Courtship by the single Grain or Tmct^re of 
a Feather, and never discovering any Charms but in the Colour 
of its own Species.' Addison's lines, of which Goldsm i trans- 
lated the first fourteen only, are printed from his corrected MS. at 
p. 4 of Some PoHiom of Esmya corUrib"i.ed to the Spectator by 
Mr. Joseph Addimn [by the late J. Dyke .mpbell], 1864. 

It is supposed that this poem was written early in 1771, 
although it was not printed until 1776, when it was published 
by G. Kearsly and J. Ridley under the title of The Haunch of 
Venison, a Poetical EpisUe to Lord Clare. By the late Dr. Gold- 
smUh. WUh a Head of the Author. Drawn by Henry Bunbury. 
Esq ; and Etched by [James] Bretherton. A second edition, the 
text of which is here followed, appeared in the same year 'With 
considerable Additions and Corrections, Taken from the Author's 
last Transcript.' The Lord Clare to whom the verses are addressed 
was Robert Nugent, of Carlanstown, Westmeath, M.P. for 
St. Mawes in 1741-54. In 1766 he was created VUcount Clare ; 
in 1778 Earl Nugent. In his youth he had himself been an easy 
if not very original versifier ; and ther- are several of his per- 
formances in the second volume of Dodsley's CoUection of Poems 
by Several Hands, 4th ed., 1755. One of the Epistles, beginning 
'Clarinda, dearly lov'd, attend The Counsels of a faithful 
friend,' seems to have betrayed Goldsmith into the blunder of 
confusing it, in the Poems for Young Ladies. 1707, p. 114, with 
Lyttelton'B better-known Advice to a Lady {' The counsels of 



a fnend, Belinda, hear'), also in Dodaley'a miscellany while 
another piece, an Ode to William Pultney, Eaq., contains a stanza 
80 good that Gibbon worked it into his character of Brutus :— 

What tho' the good, the brave, the wise. 
With adverse force undaunted rise. 

To break th' eternal doom ! 
Tho' Cato liv'd, tho' Tully spoke, 
Tho' Brutus dealt the godlike stroke. 

Yet perish'd fated Rome. 

Detraction, however, has insinuated that Mallet, his step-son's 
tutor, was Nugent's penholder in this instance. 'Mr Nugent 
sure did not write his own Ode,' says Gray to Walpole (Gray's 
W«rk», by Gosse, 18M, ii. 220). Earl Nugent died in Dublin 
in October, 1788, and was buried at Gosfield in Essex, a property 
he had acquired with his second wife. A Memoir of him was 
written in 1898 by Mr. Claud Nugent. He is described by 
Cunningham as ' a big, jovial, voluptuous Irishman, with a loud 
voice, a strong Irish accent, and a ready though coarse wit ' 
According to Percy {Memoir, 1801, p. 66), he had been attracted 
to Goldsmith by the publication of The Travdler in 1764, and he 
mentioned him favourably to the Earl of Northumberland, then 
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. A note in Forster's £i/e, 1871, 
ii. .129-30, speaks of Goldsmith as a frequent visitor at Gosfield 
and at Nugent's house in Oreat George Street, Westminster! 
where he had often for p;:iymate bis host's daughter, Mary, 
afterwards Marchioness of Buckingham. 

Scott and others regarded The Haunch of Venimn as auto- 
biographical. To what extent this is the case, it is difficult to 
say. That it represents the actual thanks of the poet to Lord 
Clare for an actual present of venison, part of which he promptly 
transferred to Reynolds, is probably the fact. But, as the 
following notes show, it is also clear that Goldsmith borrowed 
if not his entire fable, at least some of its details from Boilcau's 
third satire ; and that, in certain of the lines, he had in memory 
Swift's Grand Question Debated, the measure of which he adopts 
This throws more than a doubt upon the truth of the whole 
His geniuR ' (as Haditt says) ' a mixture of originality 
and imitation ' ; and fact and fiction often mingle inseparably 



in his work. The author of the bailifi scene in the Good Natur'i 
Man was quite capable of inventing for the nonce the tragedy of 
the unbaked pasty, or of selecting from the Pilkingtons and 
Purdons of his acquainUnce such appropriate guests for his Mile 
End Amphitryon as the writers of the Smrler and the Scourge. 
It may indeed even be doubted whether, if The Haunch of Veni- 
ion had been absolute personal history, Goldsmith would everhave 
retailed it to his noble patron at Gosfisld, although it may include 
enough of real experience to serve as the basU for a jeu d'eaprU. 
1. 4. The fat waa ao whiU, &o. The first version reads—' The 
white was so white, and the red was so ruddy.' 

1. 6. Though my aUmach waa aharp, &c. This couplet is not 
in the first version. 

1. 10. One gammon of bacon. Prior compares a passage from 
Goldsmith's Animated Nature, 1774, iii 0, d propoa of a similar 
practice in Germany, Poland, and Svn-crland. 'A piece of 
beef,' he says, ' hung up there, is considered as an elejant piece 
of furniture, which, though seldom touched, at least argues the 
possessor's opulence and ease.' 

1. 14. a bounce, i. e a braggart falsehood. Steele, in No. T6 of 
The Lover, 1715, p. 110, says of a manifest piece of brag, ' B';t 
this is sapposed to be only a Bounce.' 

1. 18. Mr. Byrne, spelled ' Bum ' in the earlier editions, waa 
a relative of Lord Clare. 

1. 24. M—r—'s. Monroe's in the first version. ' Dorothy 
Monroe,' says Bolton Corney, ' whose various charms are cele- 
brated in verse by Lord Townshend.' 

1. 27. There 'a H—d, and C—y, and H—rth, and H—ff. In 
the first vemion — _ 

' There 's CoLEY, and Williams, and Howard, and Hiff. — 
Hiff was Paul Hiffernan, M.B., 1719-77, a Grub Street author 
and practitioner. Bolton Corney hazards some conjectures 
OS to the others ; but Cunningham wisely passes them over. 

1. 29. H—gg—na. Perhaps, suggests Bolton Corney, this was 
the Captain Higgins who assisted at Goldsmith's absurd fracaa 
with Evans the bookseller, upon the occasion of Kenrick's letter 
in The London Packet for March 24, 1773. Other accounts, how- 
ever, state that his companion was Captain Horneck (Prior, 
Life, 1837, ii. 411-12). This couplet is not in the first version. 



I. 33. Such dainlia to them, 4c. The first vcreion reads- 
Such dainties to thorn ! It would lools like a flirt, 
Lilse Bending 'em RuBfles when wanting a Shirt. 
Cunningham quotes a similar idea from T. Brown's Laconict 
Work,, 1709. iv. 14. ' To treat a poor wretch with a bottle 
of Burgundy, or fill his snuff-bor, is like giving a pair of laco 
ruffles to a man that has never a shirt on his back." But Gold- 
smith, as was his wont, had already himself employed the same 
figure. Honours to one in my situation,' he says in a letter 
to his brother Maurice, in January, 1770, when speaking of his 
appomtment as Professor of Ancient History to the Royal 
Academy, 'are something like ruffles to a man that wants a 
sh.rt {Percy Memoir, 1801, 87-8). His source was probably, not 
Brown's Laconm, but those French ana he knew so well. Accord- 
ing to M. J. J. Jusserand {EnglM EMuya from a French Pen, 
1895, pp. 160-1), the originator of this conceit was M. Samuel il 
Sorbidres. the traveller in England who was assailed by Bishop 
Sprat. Considering himself inadequately rewarded by his 
patrons, Mazarin, Louis XIV, and Pope Clement IX, he said 
bitterly— ' They give lace cuffs to a man without a shirt'; 
a ' consolatory witticism ' which he afterwards remodelled into, 
' I wish they would send me bread for the butter they kindly 
provided me with.' In this form it appears in the Preface to 
the Sorberiana, Toulouse, 1691. 

a flirt is a jibe or jeer. ' He would sometimes . . . cast out 
a jesting fiirt at me.' (Morley's History of Thomas EUwood, 1 89.5, 
p. 104.) Svrift also uses the word. 

I. 37. An under-hred, fine-spoken fellow, &c. The first version 
reads — 

A fine-spoken Custoir house Oflicer he. 
Who smil'd ae he gaz'd on the Ven'son and me. 
1. 44. but I hale ostentation. Cf. Beau Tibbs :-' She was bred, 
but that 's between ourselves, under the inspection of the Countess 
of All-night.' (CUizen oj the World, 1762, i. 238.) 

1. 49. We'll ham Johnson, and Burke. Cf. Boileau, Sat. iii. 
II. 25-6, which Goldsmith had in mind : — 

Moli^rc avoc Tartufe y doit jouer son role, 
Et Lambert, qui plus est, m'a donne sa parole. 


I. 83. What »» you-a paoly > '« '>">»' »"'' '' •"'^- '""' ""* 
version reads— 

I'll take no denial-you shall, and you must. 

Mr J. M. Lobban. OcU'mith. SM Poem,. 1900, note. » Wtherto 
undetected similarity between this and the • It m»* and jt Ml 
be a barrack, my life ' of Swift's Grand Que^tum Debated. See 

also 11. 56 and 91. , j < • j i« 

1.56. Ko Mining, I beg-my dear Iriend-my dear fnend. In 

the first edition— 

No words, my dear GotDSMira 1 my very good Fnend! 

Mr. Lobban compares :— 
'Good morrow, good captain.' TU wait on you do™.'- 
'You shan't stir a foot.' 'You'll think me a clown. 
1. 60. • And nobody vcUh me at, eo but my,eH.' This taalmost 
a te:.tual quotation from one of the lettersof Henry Frederick 
Duke of Cumberland, t. Lady Grosvenor, a correspondence which 
in 1770 gave great delight to contemporary caricaturist, and 
seandal-mongers. Other poet, beside. ^'>'f'^'\'^'''''J^Z 
been attracted by this particular lapse of his .U,te«te Roya^ 
HTghness, since it is woven into a ballad printed m The Public 
Advertiser for August 2 in the above year :— 

The Miser who wakes in a Fright for his Pelf, 
And finds no me by him excejd hi, oum Self, &c. 
1. 67. When come to the place. &c. CT. Boileau, «< mvra. 

II. 31-4 :— 

A peine itais-je entr4, que, ravi de me voir, 
Mon homme, en m'embrassant, m'est venu recevoir; 
Et montrant k mes yeux une all^gresse entiire. 
Nous n'avons, m'a-t-il dit, ni Lambert ni MoliJre. 

Lambert the musician, it may be added, had the special reputa- 
tion of accepting engagements which he never kept. 

1 72 and tolher with Thrale. Henry Thrale. the Southwark 
brewer, and the husband of Mrs. Thrale, afterwards Mrs. Pioizi. 
Johnson first made his acquaintance in 1765. Strahan com- 
plained to Boswel! that, by this connexion, Johnson was in 
a great measure absorbed from the society of his old friends. 



(Birkbeck Hill'a ftwi««, 1887, iii. 225.) Line 72 in the flrnt 
edition reads — 

The one at the House, and the other with Thrali. 
I. 76. They bcth of them merry and authora like you. ' They ' 
should apparently he ' they're.' The first version reads— 
VHio dab'jie and write in the Papers— like you. 
I. 78. Same think he wrilet Cinna—he ouma to Panurge. ' Pan. 
urge ' and ' Cinna ' are signatures which '.vera frequently to l>o 
found at the foot of letters addressed to the Public Adrrrtiser in 
1770-1 in support of Lord Sandwich and the Government. 
They are said to have been written by Dr. W. Scott, Vicar of 
Simonburn, Northumberland, and chaplain of Greenwich Hospital 
both of which preferments had been given him by Sandwich. In 
1763 he hod attacked Lord Bute and his policy orer the signature 
of ' Anti-Sejanus.' 'Sandwich and his parson Anti-Sejanus 
[are] hooted off the stage '—writes Walpole to Mann, Mareh 21, 
1766. According to Prior, it was Scott who visited Goldsmith 
in his Temple chambers, and invited him to 'draw a venal 
quill ' for Lord North's administration. Goldsmith's noble 
answer, as reported by his reverend friend, was—' I can earn 
OS much as will supply my wants without writing for any 
party ; the assistance therefore you offer is unnecessary to me.' 
{Life, 1837, ii. 278.) There is a caricature portrait of Scott at 
p. 141 of The London Museum for February, 1771, entitled 
'Twitcher's Advocate,' 'Jemmy Twitcher' being the nickname 
of Lord Sandwich. 

I. 82. Stcinging, great, huge. ' Bishop Lowtb has just finished 
the Dramas, and sent me word, that although I have paid him the 
most swinging compliment he ever received, he likes the whole 
book more than he can say.' (Memoirs ol Hannah More, 1834, 
i. 236.) 
1. 84. pasly. The first version has ' Ven'son.' 
1. 87. So there I sat, &c. This couplet is not in the first ver- 

I. 91. And, 'Madam,' gucth he. Mr. Lobban again quotes 
Swift's Grand Question Debated:— 

And ' Madam,' says he, ' if such dinners you give 
You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.' 



These slight resemblances, coupled with the more obvious likeness 
ot the • Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff ' oJ BeUdiation (11. 145-6) 
to the 'Noueds and Blaiurtt and Omurt and stuff* (also pointed 
out by Mr. Lobban) are interesting, because they show plainly 
that Goldsmith remembered the works of Swift far better than 
The New Bath Guide, which has sometimes been supposed to have 
set the tune to the Haunch and Xelalialion. 

1. 91. ' may thit bit be my poiaon.' The gentleman in She 
Sloopa to Conquer, Act i, who is ' obligated to dance a bear,' 
uses the same asseveration (». p. 219 of this volume). Cf. also 
Squire Thornhin's somewhat similar formula in chap, vii of 
The Vicar of Wakefidd, 1766. i. 89. 
1. 98. ' The tripe,' quM the Jew, &c. The firet version reads— 
' Your Tripe I ' quoth the Jew, ' if the truth I may speak, 
I could eat of thU Tripe seven days in the week.' 
1. 103. He-echoed, i.e. ' returned ' in first edition. 
1. 104. Ihol. This, probably by a printer's error, is altered to 
' that ' in the second version. But the first reading is the more 
in keeping, besides being a better rhyme. 

1. 110. Wak'd Priam. Cf. 2 Henry IV, Act i. So. 1 :— 
Even such a mui, so faint, so spiritless. 
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone. 
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. 
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. 
1. 120. ticken'd over by learning. Cf. Hamlet, Act iii, So. 1 : 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is ticldied o'er with the pale cast of thought. 
Notwithstanding the condemnation of Shakespeare in the Present 
Slate 0/ PdUe Learning, and elsewhere. Goldsmith frequently 
weaves Shakespearean recollections into his work. Cf. She Sloops 
to Conquer, 1773, Act i, p. 13, ' We wanted no ghost to tell us 
that ' {Hamlet, Act i, So. 5) ; and Act i, p. 9, where he uses 
Falstaff's words (1 Henry IV, Act v. So. 1) :— 

Would it were bed-time and all were well. 
1. 121. as very wdl knr The first version has, ' 'tis very 

well known.' 



ThiB epitaph, apparently never uwd, Mas publiabed with The 
Haunch of Vtnuon. 1776 ; and iasuppowd to have been written 
about 1770. In that year Ooldamith wrote a Life of Thomat 
Pamell, D.D., to accompany an edition of hii poema, printed for 
Daviea of Rumell Street. Parnell was bom in 1079, and died 
at Cheater in 1718, on hia way to Ireland. He was buried at 
Trinity Church in that town, on the 24th of October. Gold«mith 
Bays that his father and uncle both knew Parnell (ii/e o/ Parmlt. 
1770, p. v), and that he received auistance from the poet's 
nephew. Sir John Parnell, the linging gentleman who figures in 
Hogarth". Election Entertainment. Why Goldsmith should w rite 
an epiUph upon a man who died ten years before his own birth, 
is not easy to explain. But Johnson also wrote a Latin one, 
which he gave to Boswell. (Birkbeck Hill's Life, 1887, iv. 84.) 

1. 1. gentle Pamdl't name. Mitford compares Pope on ParneU 
[EpiaUe to Barley, 1. iv] :— 

With softest manners, gentlest Arts adom'd. 
Pope published Pamell's Potma in 1722, and his sending them 
to Harley, Earl of Oxford, after the latter's disgrace and retire- 
ment, was the occasion of the foregoing epistle, from which the 
following lines respecting Parnell may also be cited :— 
For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend. 
Fond to forget the statesman in the friend ; 
For Swift and him despis'd the farce of state. 
The sober follies of the wise and great ; 
Dext'rous the craving, fawning crowd to quit. 
And pleas'd to 'scape from Flattery to Wit. 
1.3. his atmeay-moral lay. Cf. The HermU, the Hymn to Con. 
teninunt, the Night Piece on Z)ea«A-which Goldsmith certainly 
recalled in his own CUy Night-Piece. Of the last-named Gold- 
smith says (Ufe of ParneU, 1770, p. mii), not without an obvious 
side-stroke at Gray's too-popular Elegy, that it ' deserves every 
praise, and I should suppose with very little amendment, might 
be made to surpass all those night pieces and church yard scenes 
thathave since appeared.' This is certainly (as Longfellow singsjto 
rustling hear in every breeze 
The laurels of Miltiades. 


Of P.meU. Hume wrote (B«.,.. '"''•;,"*>;!'•'„''"[,;'! 
fiftieth reading! [he] i< »» fr«»h a. at the «r.t. But Oray 
0.«.king-it .hould be e,plain«l-of a d-Wou. vo u-ne "f hi. 
pTthumou. work.) .aid : ' Pamell i. the dunghm of Ir«h Grub 
Ct • (Oo.«,-. Gray-. Wort.. 1884. ii. 372). Meanwhrte. t » 
hHat. to be mainly remembered ^y three word, (n^ 
lay. attribuU to him) in a couplet from ^X'^f "^^'^^^ 
•perhap. the meaneaf of hi. performance., the mm-*" »» 

And all thaf. madly wild, or oddly gay. 

We call it only )»•««» Fanny't vay. 


Thi.. though dated 'Edinburgh. 17SV wa, fimt printed in 

Poemg and Playt, 1777. p. 79. 
TTilTr^i-nameforaclown or commonplace ch^ter 

Mi,. Burney (Wry. 1904. i. 222) .ay. of Dr^ Dclap:- A. o 

hi. per«>n and appearance, they are much m ">« J"*"'"^- y|'- 

Foote Chcterfield, and Walpole u« the phrase : Fielding 

^^cL it into 'John Trott-Plaid. E.q. ' ; and Bolmgbroke 

T^'r n^r Jo^; .-«. • I .Hall never «e a Ooo» 
again without thinking on Mr. ^'-'>«' •-^y" »"'""'"' 
Mi«8 NoUble ' in Swift's Polite Cunwrwrfion, 1738, p. loo. 

Potm, and Plays. 1777. p. 79. i, to be found m For.ter . L,/. and 
tIZ 0/ mJ OM^nW,. 1871, ii. 60 Purdon d.^on M«ch 
27. 1767 (OenOeman's Magazint. April, 1767. p. !«)■ I"- 

Gold.mith made thU epitaph." .ay. William BaUantyrie [the 
author of Macklinianal "in hi. «"? , "°" *"" ,"'""^' 
"the Temple to the Wedne«iay evening', club at the Globe^ 
I think *e »■« never conu back. I believe he w.d. I wa. 

February 14. 1880). 



Hitting by bim, and he re|ieitted it more thin twice. / think hi 
wiU ntvtr com baek." ' Puidon had been «t Trinity Collrgt. 
Dublin, » ith Ooldiimitb ; he bad aubwqiwDtly been a foot soldier ; 
ultimately be became a ' booluellcr'a back.' He wrote an 
anonymoun letter to Uarrick in 17S», and tranalalod the Henriade 
of Voltaire. Thin trannlation tioldamith ia nuppowd to have 
rcviaed, and hia own life of Voltaire waa to have accompanied 
it, though finally the Memoir and Translation iieem to have 
appeared separately. (Cf. prefatory note to Memuii o/ M. dt 
VuUairt in Uibba's K'urt* o/ CHivtr OnldmUh, 18M, iv. 2.) 

Fomler says further, in a note, ' The original ... is the epitaph 
on " La Mort du Sieur Etienne " :— 

II est au bout de ses travauz, 
II a pMet. ie Sieur Etienne : 
En ce mondo il eut tant des mauz 
Qu'on ne croit pas qu'il revienne. 
With this perhaps Goldsmith was familiar, and had therefore 
less scruple in laying felonious hands on the epigram in the 
Mucdlaniu (Swift, ziii. 372) !— 

Well, then, poor G lies underground 1 

So there 's an end of honest Jack. 
So little justice here he found, 
'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.' 
Mr. Forster's ' felonious hands ' recalls a passage in Goldsmith's 
Li/e of ParneU, 1770, in which, although himself an habitual 
tinner in this woy, be comments gravely upon the practice of 
plagiarism:— 'It was the fashion with the wits of the lost age, 
to conceal the places from whence they took their bints or their 
subjects. A trifling acknowledgment would have made that 
lawful prize, which may now be considered as plunder' 
(p. xxxii). 

This benefit took place at Covent Garden on May 7, 1773, 
the pieces performed being Rowe's Lady Jane Grey, and a popular 
pantomimic after-piece by Theobald, called Harlequin Sorcerer. 
Charles Lee Lewes (1740-1803) was the original ' Young Marlow ' 
of She Sloops to Conquer. When that part was thrown up by 


' nenllraiM ' Smith, Rhuter, the ' Mr. Hardculle ' ol the comedy, 
•uggeated Lewn, who wu the hirlequin ol the th»tra, *« • 
■ubetitute, and the choice proved an admirable one, Ooldamith 
waa highly pleaaed with hia performance, and in conaequence 
wrote for him thii epilogue. It waa lint printed by Erana, 
1780, i. 112-4. 

I. 9. in Iky Hack aipfH, i. e. the half -maak of harlequin, in which 
character the Epilogue waa apoken. 

I. 18. Tontud lightning, aUge-lightning, in which roain ia an 


Thia epilogue waa flrat printed at pp. 82-6, vol. ii, of the 
MiKtUantnua Wmkt nj 1801. Bolton Corney naya it had been 
given to Percy by Goldamith. It ia evidently the ' quarrelling 
Epilogue ' referred to in the following letter from Goldamith to 
Cradock (MiKManioat, Mtmoirt, 1826, i. 228-6) :— 
* My OE4R Sib, 

The Play [Sht Stoopt to Conqutr] haa met with a aucccHa 
much beyond your expectations or mine. I thank you aincercly 
for your Epilogue, which, however could not be uacd, but with 
your permiasion, rS.all . prinlwl '. The atory in abort ia thia ; 
Murphy sent me rather the outline of an Epilogue than Kii 
Epilogue, which was to be sung by Mrs. Catley, and which she 
approved. Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up 
her part, unless according to the custom of the theatre, she were 
permitted to speak the Epilogue. In thia embarrassment I 
thought of making a quarrelling Epilogue between Catley and 
her, debating who should speak the Epilogue, but then Mrs. 
Catley refused, after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. 
I waa then at a loss indeed ; an Epilogue was to be made, and 
for none but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it 
too bad to be spoken ; I was obliged therefore to try a fourth 
time, and I made a very mawkish thing, as you'll shortly see. 
Such is the history of my Stage adventures, and which I have at 
last done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the 
1 U is so printed with the note—' This came too late to be Spoken.' 



•t«g» ; and though I believe I ihall get thirr- tolerable benefll>, 
yet I ahall upon the whole be • lowr, even in » pecuniary light ; 
my !■ .» and comfort I certainly loit while it waa in agitation. 
I am, my dear Cradock, 

your obliged, and obedient wrvant. 


P.S.— Present my most humble reapccti to Mm. Cradock.' 
According to Prior {.VuctUantoiu Worka, 1837, Iv. IM), 
Uoldimith'i friend. Dr. Farr, had a copy of thia epilogue which 
•till, when Prior wrote, remained in that gentleman'a family. 
I. 21. Who mump Ihiir pauion, i. c. grimace their pauion. 
1. 31. ye macaroni train. The Macaroniea were the foplingi, 
fribblea, or beaux of Goldamith'a Jay. Walpole refen to them 
aa early aa 1764 ; but their flouriihing time waa 1770-3, when the 
print-ahopa, and eapecially .Matthew Darly'a in the Strand, N "t, 
awarmed with satirical deaigna of which they were the subject. 
Selwyn, March— many well-known names— are found in their 
ranks. Richard Cosway figured aa "The Macaroni Painter'; 
Angelica Kauffmann aa 'The Paintresa of Maccaroni's ' ; Thrale 
as 'The Southwark Macaroni.' Another caricature ( 'The Flutter- 
ing Macaroni ') conUins a portrait of Miss Catley, the singing 
actress of the present epilogue: while Charles Homeck, the 
brother of ' The Jessamy Bride ' (see p. 2ri\, I. 14), is twice 
satirized aa 'The Martial Macaroni' and 'The Military Maca- 
roni.' The name, .t.n may be guessed, comes from the Italian 
dish first made fashionable by the ' Macaroni Club,' being after- 
wards applied by extension to ' the younger and gayer part of 
our nobility and gentry, who, at the same time that they gave 
in to the luxuriea of eating, went equally into the extravagancies 
of dress.' (Macaroni and Theatrical Magazine, Oct. 1772.) Cf. 
Sir Benjamin Backbite's later epigram in Tlie School for Scandal, 
1777, Act ii. So. 2 :— 

Sure never waa seen two such beautiful ponies ; 
Other horses are clowns, but these macaronies : 
To give them this title I'm sure can't be wrong. 
Their legs are so slim and their tails arc so long. 
1. 36. Their hands are only lent to the Heinel. See note to 
I. 28, p. 85. 



This epilogue, given by Goldsmith to Dr. Percy in MS., was 
Krst published in the MiaceUaneous Works of 1801, n. 87-8. as 
An EpUorue Mended for Mrs. Bulkley. Percy did not remember 
for what play it was intended j but it is plainly (see note to 
1. 40) the second epilogue for She Stoops to Conquer referred to 
in the letter printed at p. 248 of this volume. 

1 1 There is a place, so Arioslo sings. ' The poet alludes to 
the thirty-fourth canto of The Orlando furioso. Ariosto a« 
translated by Mr. Stewart Rose, observes of the lunar world : 
There thou wilt find, if thou wilt thither post. 
Whatever thou on earth beneath hast lost. 
Astolpho undertakes the journey; discovers a portion of his 
cwn sense ; and, in an ample flask, the lost wits o Orlando. 
(Bolton Corney.) Cf. also Rape of the Lock, Canto v, 11. 113-14 : 
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere. 
Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. 
Lord Chesterfield also refers to the ' happy extravagancy ' of 
Astolpho's journey in his LeUers, 1774, i. .')57. 

I 9 at Foote's alone. ' Foote's ' was the Little Theatre m the 
Haymarket, where, in February, 1773, he brought out what he 
described as a ' Primitive Puppet Show,' based upon the Italian 
Fantoccini, and presenting a burlesque sentimental Comedy 
called The Handsome Housemaid ; or. Piety in PaUens, which 
did as much as She Stoops to laugh false sentiment away. Foote 
warned his audience that they would not discover ' much wit or 
humour • in the piece, since ' his brother writers had all agreed 
that it was highly improper, and beneath the dignity of a mixed 
assembly, to show any signs of joyful satisfaction ; and that 
creating a laugh was forcing the higher order of an audience to 
a vulgar and mean use of their muscles '-for which reason, he 
explained, he had, like them, given up the sensual for the senti- 
mental atvle. And thereupon followed the story of a maid of low 
degree who, ' by the mere effects of morality and virtue, raised 
herself [like Richardson's Pamela], to riches and honours.' The 



public, who for eome time had acquiesced in the new order of 
things under the belief that it tended to the reformation of the 
stage, and who were beginning to weary of the ' moral essay 
thrown into dialogue,' which had for some time supplanted 
Jmcorous aituation, promptly came round under the influence 
of p'cou s Aristophanic ridicule, and the comedie larmoyante 
received . n appreciable check. Goldsmith himself had prepared 
the way n a paper contributed to the Wutmineter Magazine for 
L)eceui'.er, 1772 (vol. i. p. 4), with the title of ' An Essay on the 
Theatre ; or, A Comparison between Laughing and Sentimental 
Comedy.' The specific reference in the Prologue is to the fact 
that Footc gave morning performances of The Handaome House- 
maid. There was one, for instance, on Saturday, March 6, 1773. 
1. 27. The Mohawk. This particular species of the genus 
' rake ' belongs more to Swift's than Goldsmith's time, though 
the race is eternal. There is an account of the ' Mohock Club ' 
in Spectator, No. 324. See also Spectator, No. 347 ; Gay's Trivia, 
1716, Book iii. p. 74 ; Swift's Journal to Stella, March 8 and 26, 
1712; and the Wenlworth Papers, 1883, pp. 277-8. 

1. 40. Still stoops among the low to copy nature. This line, one 
would think, should have helped to convince Percy that the 
epilogue was intended for She Stoops to Conquer, and for no 
other play 


The Oratorio of the Captivity was written in 1764 ; but never 
set to music. It was first printed in 1820 at pp. 451-70 of vol. ii 
of the octavo edition of the Miscellaneous Works issued by the 
trade in that year. Prior reprinted it in 1837 ( Works, iv. pp. 79- 
95) from the ' original manuscript ' in Mr. Murray's possession ; 
and Cunningham again in 1854 {Works, i. pp. 63-76). It is here' 
reproduced from Prior. James Dodsley, who bought the MS. 
for Newbery and himself, gave Goldsmith ten guineas. Murray's 
copy was the one made for Dodsley, October 31, 1764 ; the one 
printed in 1820, that made for Newbery. The latter, which once 
belonged to the autograph collector, William Upcott, was in the 
market in 1887. 
1. 23, Act i. This song had been published in the first edition 


of The Haunch 0/ Venimn. 1776, with the second »tan« varied 

thus: — 

Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppresBing, 

Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe ; 
And he who wants each other blessing, 
In thee must ever find a foe 
1 33, Act ii. This song also had appeared in the first edition of 
The Haunch of Veniaon, 1776, in a different form :- 

The Wretch condemn'd with life to pirt. 

Still, still on Hope relies ; 
And ev'ry pang that rends the heart. 

Bids Expectation rise. 
Hope, like the glim'ring taper's light, 

Adorns and chcars the way ; 
And still, as darker grows the night. 
Emits a brighter ray. 
Mitford, who printed The CaptivUy from Newbery's version, 
c rfs a numL of ' first thoughts' ■'"e™*"'-""'^ °; '"• 
proved by the author in his MS. Modern edUors have no rep™- 
du«d them, and their example has been followed here. The 
Cajvifv is not. in any sense, one of Goldsmith's important 

These were first published in the ilUcdlaneou<^Vorks of 1837 
iv 132-3, having been communicated to the ed.tor by «» <"- 
ZZ Sir H. I. Bunbury, Bart., the son of H-yJ. .a^» 
Bunbury, the well-known comic artist, and husband o« Cathe"nc 
Horneck the 'Little Comedy' to whom Goldsmith e r^. 
Dr. Baker, to whose house the poet was invited, was Dr. (af ter- 
"Irds Sir George) Baker, 1722-1809. He was S.r Joshua 
doctor; and in 1776 became physician to George III, whom he 
attended during his illness of 1788-9. He « often mentioned 
bv Fanny Burney and Hannah More. , , t.i .», 

1 11 Lrnect; i.e. Mrs. Hannah Horneck-the ' Plymouth 
Beauty '-widow of Captain Kane WiUiam Horneck, grandson 



of Dr. Anthony Horneck of the Savoy, mentioned in Evelyn's 
Diary, for whose Happy Axetick, 1724, Hogarth designed a 
frontispiece. Mrs. Horneck died in 1803. Like Sir Joshua, 
the Hornecks came from Devonshire ; and through liim, had 
made the acquaintance of Goldsmith. 

Netibitt. Mr. Nesbitt was the husband of one of Mr. Thrale's 
handsome sisters. He was a member of the Devonshire Club, 
and twice (17.59-61) sat to Reynolds, with whom he was inti- 
mate. He died in 1779, and his widow married a Mr. Scott. 

1. 13. Kauffmann. Angelica KauSmann, the artist, 1741-1807. 
She had come to London in 1766. At the close of 1767 she had 
been cajoled into j, marriage with an impostor. Count de Horn, 
and had separated from him in 1768. In 1769 she painted 
a ' weak and uncharacteristic ' portrait of Reynolds for Mr. 
Parker of Saltram (afterwards Baron Boringdon), which is now 
in the possession of the Earl of Morley. It was exhibited at the 
Royal Academy in the winter of 1876, and is the portrait referred 
to at 1. 44 below. 

1. 14. the Jesmmy Bride. This was Goldsmith's pet-name for 
Mary, the younger Miss Horneck, at this time a girl of seventeen. 
After Goldsmith's death she married Colonel F. E. Gwyn (1779). 
She survived until 1840. 'Her own picture with a turban,' 
painted by Reynolds, was left to her in his will ( Works by Malonc, 
2nd ed., 1798, p. cxviii). She was also painted by Romney and 
Hoppner. ' Jessamy,' or ' jessimy,' with its suggestion of 
jasmine flowers, seems in eighteenth-century parlance to have 
stood for 'dandified,' 'superfine,' 'delicate,' and the whole 
name was probably coined after the model of some of the titles 
to Darly's prints, then common in all the shops. 

1. 16. The Reynoldaea two, i. e. Sir Joshua and his sister. Miss 

1. 17. Little Comedy's face. ' Little Comedy ' was Goldsmith's 
name for the elder Miss Horneck, Catherine, then nineteen, and 
already engaged to H. W. Bunbury (v. supra), to whom she was 
married in 1771. She died in 1799, and had also been painted 
by Reynolds. 

1. 18. tke Captain in lace. This was Charles Hoineck, Mrs. 
Horneck's son, an officer in the Foot-guards. He afterwards 
became a general, and died in 1804. (See note, p. 247, 1. 31.) 


1. 44. to-day's AdvertUer. The lines referred to we said by 
Prior to have been as follows :— 

While fair An.^elica, with matchless grace. 
Paints Conwsj's lovely form and Stanhope's face; 
Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay. 
We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. 
But when the likeness she hath done for thee, 
O Reynolds ! with astonishment we sec. 
Forced to submit, with all our pride we own. 
Such strength, such harmony, excell'd by none. 
And thou art rivall'd by thyself alone. 
They probably appeared in the newspaper at some date 

between 1769, when the picture was painted and August 1771. 

when • Little Comedy ' was married, after which time Goldsmith 

would scarcely speak of her except as ' Mrs. Bunbury (see p. 132, 

1. 15). 

This letter, which contains some of the brightest and easiest 
of Goldsmith's familiar verses, was addressed to Mrs. Junbury 
(the • Little Com.ay ' of the Verses m Beply to o» Inmtaiumto 
Dinner pp. 250-2), m answer to a rhymed summons on her 
part to spend Christmas at Great Barton in Suffolk the family 
Teat of the Bunburys. It was first printed by P"" '" «^« 

Miscellaneous Works of 1837, iv. 148-51, and agam m 1838 m 
Sir Henry Bunbury's Correspondence of Sir Thonms Hanmer 

Bart pp 379-83. The text of the latter issue is here followed. 

When Prior published the verses, they were assigned to the year 

1772 ; in the Hanmer Correspondence it is stated that they were 

' probably written in 1773 or 1774.' 
P 130 your spring velvet coat. Goldsmith's pronounced taste 

in dress, and his good-natured simplicity, made hU costume 

a fertile subjeC for playful raillery,-sometimes, for rather cis- 

creditable practical jokes. (See next note.) _ 

P 131. awig.thatismodishandgay. 'He always wore a wig - 

said the ■ Jessamy Bride ' in her leminisceLces to Prior- a pecu- 



liarity which those who judge of his appearance only from the 
fine poetical head of Reynolds, would not suspect ; and on one 
occasion some person contrived to seriously injure this important 
adjunct to dress. It was the only one he had in the country, 
and the misfortune seemed irreparable until ije services of Mr. 
Bunbury's valet were called in, who however performed his 
functions so indifferently that poor Goldsmith's appearance 
became the signal for a general smile' (Prior's Life, 1837, 
ii. 378-9). 
P. 131. Nam coniemnere adunco. Cf. Horace, So*, i. 6. 5 :— 

naso Buspendis adunco 

and Martial, Ep. i. 4. 6 :— 

Et pueri nasum Rhinocerotis habent. 

1. 2. Loo, i. e. Lanctre- or Lanterloo, a popular eighteenth- 
century game, in which Pam, 1. 6, the knave of clubs, is the 
highest card. Cf. Pope, Rape of the Lock, 1714, iii. 61 :— 

Ev'n mighty Pam. that Kings and Queens o'erthrew. 
And mow'd down armies in the fights of Lu ; 

and Colman's epilogue to The School for Scandal, 1777 :— 

And at backgammon mortify my soul. 
That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole ? 

1. 17. Misa Horned. Miss Mary Homeck, the 'Jessamy 
Bride ' (vide note, p. 251, 1. 14). 

1. 36. Fielding. Sir John Fielding, d. 1780, Henry Field- 
ing's blind half-brother, who succeeded him as a Justice of the 
Peace for the City and Liberties of Westminster. He was 
knighted in 1761. There are two portraits o; him by Nathaniel 

1. 40. by quinio Elizabeth, Death without Clergy. Legal autho- 
rities affirm that the Act quoted should be 8 Eliz. cap. iv, 
under which those who stole more than twelvepence ' privately 
from a man's person ' were debarred from benefit of clergy. 
But ' quint. Eliz.' must have offered some special attraction 
to poets, since Pope also refers to it in the Satires and Epistles. 
i. 147-8: — 



Consult the Statute : quart. I think, it is, 
Edwardi aext. or prim, et quint. Eliz. 

1. 44. With bunches of /ennrf, and nosegay before 'em. This 
was ft custom dating from the fearful jftil fever of 17S0, which 
carried oft, not only prisoners, but a judge (Mr. Justice Abney) 
' and many jurymen and witnesses." ' From that time up to 
this day [i. e. 1855] it has been usual to place sweet-smelling herbs 
in the prisoner's dock, to prevent infection.' (Lawrence's Life 
of Henry Fielding, 1855, p. 296.) The close observation of 
Cruikshank has not neglected this detail in the Old Bailey plate 
of The Drunkard's Children, 1848, v. 

I. 45. mobs. The mob was a loose undress or dishabille, some- 
times a hood. ' When we poor souls had presented ourselves 
with a contrition suitable to our worthlessness, some pretty 
young ladies in mobs, popped in here and there about the church.' 
{Guardian, No. 85, May 26, 1713.) Cf. also Addison's ' Fine 
Lady's Diary' {Speclator, No. 323); 'Went in our Mobbs to the 
Dumb Man ' (Duncan Campbell). 

1. no. yon solemn-faced. Cf. Introduction, p. xxvii. According 
to the ' Jessamy Bride,' Goldsmith sometimes aggravated his 
plainness by an ' assumed frown of countenance ' (Prior, Life, 
1837, ii. 379). 

1. 55. Sir Charles, i.e. Sir Thomas Charles Bunbury, Bart. 
M.P., Henry Bunbury's elder brother. He succeeded to the 
title in 1764, and died without issue in 1821. Goldsmith, it 
may be observed, makes ' Charles ' a disyllable. Probably, like 
many of his countrymen, he so pronounced it. (Cf. Thackeray's 
Pendennis, 1850, vol. ii, chap. 5 [or xliii], where this is humorously 
illustrated in Captain Costigan's ' Sir Chorlus, I saw your neem 
at the Levee.' Perhaps this accounts for ' failing ' and ' steal- 
ing,'— 'day on' and 'Pantheon,' in the New Simile. Cooke 
{European Magazine, October, 1793, p. 259) says that Goldsmith 
' rather cultivated (than endeavoured to get rid of) his brogue.' 

1.58. dy'd in grain, i.e. fixed, ineradicable. To 'dye in 
grain' means primarily to colour with the scarlet or purple 
dye produced by the kermes insect, called granum in Latin, 
from its similarity to small seeds. Being what is styled a 
' fast ' dye, the phrase is w^ by extension to signify perma- 



Forster thus describeB the MS. of thia poem in hia Li/t of 
Ocldmilh :— ' It j3 a small quarto manuscript of thirty-four pages, 
containing 679 lines, to which a fly-leaf is appended in which 
Goldsmith notes the differences of nomenclature between Vida's 
chessmen and our own. It has occasional interlineations and 
corrections, but such as would occur in transcription rather than 
in a first or original copy. Sometimes indeed choice appears to 
have been made (as at p,.ge 20) between two words equally suit- 
able to the sense and verse, as '■ to '" for " toward " ; but the 
inscrtiona and erasures refer almost wholly to words or Hnes acci- 
dentally omitted and replaced. The triplet is always careiully 
marked j and seldom as it is found in any other of Gold- 
smith's poems, I am disposed to regard its frequent recurrence 
here as even helping, in some degree, to explain the motive which 
had led him to the trial of an experiment in rhyme comparatively 
new to him. If we suppose him, half consciously, it may be, 
taking up the manner of the great master of translation, Dryden, 
who was at all times so much a favourite with him, he would 
at least, in so marked a peculiarity, be less apt to fall short than 
to err perhaps a little on the side of excess. Though I am far 
from thinking such to be the result in the present instance. The 
effect of the whole translation is pleasing to me, and the mock- 
heroic effect I think not a little assisted by the reiterated use of 
the triplet and alexandrine. As to any evidences of authorship 
derivable from the appearance of the manuscript, I will only add 
another word. The lines in the translation have been carefully 
counted, and the number is marked in Goldsmith's hand at the 
close of his transcription. Such a fact is, of course, only to be 
taken in aid of other proof ; but a man is not generally at the 
pains of counting, still less, I should say in such a case as Gold- 
smith's, of elaborately transcribing, lines which are not his own-' 
(Forster's Goldsmith, 1871, ii. 235-6). 

When Forster wrote the a.Mve, the MS. was in the possession 
of Mr. Bolton Corney, who had not been aware of its existence 
when he edited Goldsmith's Poems in 184.'). In ISM it was, 
with his permission, included in vol. iv of Cunningham's Worit 
of 1854, and subsequently in the Aldine Poenu of 1866. 



Mark Jerome Vida of Cremona, U90-1S66, wai Bbhop o( Alba, 
and {avourite of Leo the Magnificent. Several translator* 
bad tried their hand at bis Qame of ChtM before Goldsmith. 
Lownde* mentions Rowbotham, 1S62 ; Je'ii ys, 1736 ; Erskine, 
1736 ; Pullin, 17S0 ; and Anon. (Eton). 17d9 (who may have 
preceded Goldsmith). But after his (Goldsmith's) death ap- 
peared another Oxford anonymous version, 1778, and one by 
Arthur Murphy, 1786. 


A. PoRTB.iiTs OP Goldsmith. 

B. Deschiptioks of Newkll's Views op Lissoy. etc. 

C. The Kpithet 'Sentimental.' 

D. Fragments op Translations, etc. by Goldsmith. 

E. Goldsmith on Poetrv under Anne and Georoe the 


F. Criticisms prom Goldsmith's 'Beauties op English 


11. W. lUNItt ItV 



PoHT»AiTB of Ooldamitb »ro not aumerous ; and the best known 
are tha«o of Reynolds »nd H. W. Bunbury. That by Sir Jo«hu« 
wa. painted in 1768-70. and exhibited in the Royal Acidemy 
(No. 151) from AprU 24th to May 28th in the latter year. It 
reprosenta the poet in a plain white collar, furred mantle open 
at the neck, and holding a book in bia right hand. It» general 
characterUtioa are given at p. »xviii of the 'Introduction.' 
It wa« acraped in meizotint in 1770 by Reynolda'a Italian 
pupil, Giuseppe, or Joseph Marchi ; and it is dated 1st Decem- 
ber.' Bunbury's portrait first appeared, after Goldsmith's 
death, as a frontispiece to the Bavnck «/ Veniton j and it 
was etched in facsimile by James Brethertoo. The plate is 
d«ted May 24, 1770. In his loyal but despotic Li/e o) Oald- 
-""KA (Bk. iv. ch. 6), Mr. John Forstcr reproduces these 
portraits side by side ; in order, he professes, to show • the 
diatmction between truth and a caricature of it.' Bunbury, it 
may be, was primarUy a caricaturist, and possibly looked' at 
most things from a more or less grotesque point of view ; but this 
sketch— it should be observed— was meant for a likeness, and we 
have the express testimony of one who, if she was Bunbury's 
sister-in-law, was also Goldsmith's friend, thot it rendered 
Goldsmith accurately. It 'gives the head with admirable 
fidelity '—says the ' Jessamy Bride ' (afterwards Mrs. Gwyn)— 
'as he actuaUy lived among us; nothing can exceed its truth' 
(Prior's Life. 1837, ii. 380). In other words, it delineates 
Goldsmith as his contemporaries saw him, with bulbous 
' This was the print to which Goldsmith referred in a well-known 
whom, after many years, he met accidentally I'n London, he ..krj 
.ij B*§" ^u'^' J ''*' }"^ «°' »° engraving of the new portrait, 
and finding he had not, 'said, with some emotion, "if your picture 
had been published, 1 should not have suffered in hour to elapse 
Without procuring it.'" But he was speedily 'appeased by apo- 
logics.' (Prior's ii/c, 1837,1.210-20.) i pe«»<.u oy apo- 



forehead, indecisive chin, and long protruding upper lip,— 
awkward, insignificant, ill at eaae,— restlessly burning ' to 
get in and shine.' It enables us moreover to understand 
how people who knew nothing of his better and more lovable 
qualities, could speak of him as an 'inspired idiot,' as 'silly 
Dr. Goldsmith,' as ' talking like poor Poll.' It is, in short, his 
oztemal, objective presentment. The picture by Sir Joshua, 
on the contrary, is almost wholly subjective. Draped judiciously 
in a popular studio costume, which is not that of the sitter's day, 
it reveals to us the author of The Deserted Village as Reynolds 
conceived him to be at bis best, serious, dignified, introspective, 
with his physical defects partly extenuated by art, partly over- 
mastered by his intellectual power. To quote the 'Jessamy 
Bride ' once more— it is ' a fine poetical head for the admiration 
of posterity, but as it is divested of his wig and with the shirt 
collar open, it was not the man as seen in daily life ' (76. ii. 380). 
Had Goldsmith lived in our era of photography, photography 
would doubtless have given us something which would have 
been neither the onp nor the other, but more like Bunbury than 
Reynolds. Yet we may be grateful for both. For Bunbury's 
sketch and Reynolds's portrait are alike indispensable to the 
true comprehension of Goldsmith's curiously dual personality.' 
The portrait by Reynolds, above referred to, was painted for 
the Thrale Gallery at Streatham, on the dispersion of which, in 
May, 1816, it was bought for the Duke of Bedford for £133 7«. 
It is now at Wobum Abbey (Cat. No. 254). At Knole, Lord 
Sackville possesses another version (Cat. No. 239), which was 
purchased in 1773 by the Countess Delawarr, and was shown at 
South Kensington in 1867. Here the dress is a black coat and a 
brown mantle with fur. The present owner exhibited it at the 
Guelph Exhibition of 1891. A third version, now in the Irish 
National Gallery, once belonged to Goldsmith himself, and then 
to his brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson. Finally, there is a copy, 
by a pupil of Reynolds, in the National Portrait Gallery, to which 

' There is in existence another undated etching by Bretherton 
after Bunbury on a larger scale, which comes much nearer to 
Reynolds ; and it is of course possible, though not in our opinion 
probable, that Mrs. Gwyn may have referred to this. But R>rster 
selected the other for his comparison : it is prefixed to the Haunch 
of iDiisoii; it is certainly the better known; and (as we believe) 
cannot ever have been intended for a caricature. 

^>ZIAS Ht'MrilKY 


it was bequeathed in 1890 by Dr. Leifchild, having formerly b'^en 
the property of Caleb Whitefoord. Caleb Whitefoord also had 
an 'admirable miniature' by Reynolds, which belongs to the 
Rev. Benjamin Whitefoord, Hon. Canon of Salisbury {WKile- 
foord Paper,, 1898, p. xxvii). A small circular print, based 
upon Reynolds, and etched by James Basire, figures on the title- 
page of Retaliation. Some of the plates are dated April 18, 
1774.' The National Portrait Gallery has also a silhouette! 
attributed to Ozias Humphry, R.A., which was presented in 
1883 by Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B. Then there is the portrait 
by Hogarth shown at South Kensington in 1867 by the late 
Mr. Studley Martin of Liverpool. It depicts the poet writing 
at a round table in a black cap, claret-coloured coat and ruffles. 
Of this there is a wood-cut in the later editions of Forster's i./« 
(Bk. iii, oh. 14). The same exhibition of 1867 conUined a por- 
trait of Goldsmith in a brown coat and red waistcoat, ' as a young 
man." It was said to be extremely like him in face, and was 
attributed to Gains', .rough. In Evans's edition of the Poetical 
and Dramatic Works is another portrait engraved by Cook, said, 
on some copies, to be ' from an original drawing ' ; and there is 
in the Print Room at the British Museum yet another portrait 
still, engraved by William Ridley ' from a painting in the posses- 
sion of the Rev. Mr. Williams," no doubt Goldsmith's friend, the 
Rev. David Williams, founder of the Royal Literary Fund. One 
of these last may have been the work to which the poet refers in 
a letter to his brother Maurice in January, 1770. ' I have sent 
my cousin Jenny [Jane Contarine] a miniature picture of myself 
... The face you well know, is ugly enough, but it is finely 
painted ' IMix. Works, 1801, p. 88). 

In front of Dublin University is a bronze statue of Goldsmith by 
J. H. Foley, R.A., erected in 1864.' Of this there is a good en- 
graving by G. Stodart. On the memorial in Westminster Abbey 
erected in 1776 is a medallion by Joseph NoUekens. 

1 S?f ''fi!?° * "i^"'"'' ^y Reynolds (t) at the British Museum. 
Uoldsmith 8 traditional ill-luck pursued him after death. Durini; 
some public procession in front of Trinity College, a number cf under- 
graduates cbmbed on the statue, with the result that the thin metal 
of the poet s head was flattened or crushetl in, requirine for its 
readjustment very skilful restorative treatment, the Rlitor is 
indebted for this item of information to the kindness of .Mr. Percv 
fitzgerald, -7ho was present at the subsequent operation 



In 1811, the Rev. B. H. Newell, B.D. and Fellow of St. John's 
College, Cambridge, ioaued an edition of the Poaical Works of 
Goldsmith. The distinctive feature of this lay in the fact that 
it was illustrated by a number of aquatints ' by Mr. Alkin ' 
(i.e. Samuel Aiken), after drawings made by Newell in 1806-9, 
and was accompanied by a series of * Remarks, attempting to 
ascertain, chiefly from local observation, the actual scene of 
The Deserted ViUage.' Some quotations from these ' Remarks ' 
have already been made in the foregoing notes ; but as copiv^ 
of six of the drawings are given in this volume, it may be well, 
in each case, to reproduce Newell's ' descriptions.' 

The west end of it, as seen from a field near the road ; to the 
north the country slopes away in coarsely cultivated enclosures, 
and the distance eastward is bounded by the Longford hills. 
The stream ran from the south side of the mill (where it is still 
of some width though nearly choked up), and fell over the once 
busy wheel, into a deep channel, now overgrown with weeds. 
Neglect and poverty appear all around. The farm house and 
barn-like buildings, which fill up the sketch, seem to have no 
circumstances of interest attached to them (p. 83). 

This south-west view was taken from the road, which passes 
by the church, towards Lishoy, and overlooks the adjacent 
country to the west. The church appears neat, its eiterior 
having been lately repaured. The tree added to the foreground 
is the only liberty taken with the subject (p. 83). 

An east view of the tree, as it stood in August, 1806. The 
Athlone road occupies the centre of the sketch, winding round 

» u 


the stone wall to the right, into the village, and to the left leading 
toward the ohuroh. The cottage and tree oppoaite the hawthorn, 
adjoin the preunt publio-houae ; the avenue before the parsonage 
tope the distant eminence (p. 84). 


In this sketch ' the decent church,' at the top of the hill in 
the distance, is an important obiect, from its exact correspon- 
dence with the situation given it in the poem. Half-way up 
stands the solitary ruin of Lord Dillon's castle. The hill in 
shadow, on the left, is above the village, and is supposed to be 
alluded to in the line — 

Up yonder hill the distant murmur rose. 
A flat of bogland extends from the narrow bke in the centre 
to the mount on the right of the foreground (p. 84). 


A south view from the Athlone road, which runs parallel with 
the stone wall, and nearly east and west : the gateway is that 
mentioned in Goldsmith's letter', the mount being directly 
opposite, in a field contiguous with the road. 

The ruinous stone wall in this and three other sketches, 
which is a frequent sort of fence in the neighbourhood, gives 
a characteristic propriety to the line (48) 

And the long grass o'ertops the mould'ring wall, 
(pp. 84-5). 


This cottage is situated, as the poem describes it, by the road- 
side, just where it forms a sharp angle by branching out from the 
village eastward: at this point a south-west view was taken 
(p. 85). 

Newell's book was reissued In 1820 ; but no alterations were 
made in the foregoing descriptions which, it must be borne in 

> See note to 1. 114 of Tke DtitrUd ViUagt. 


mind, refer to 1806-9. His enthusiantic identlficatioiu will no 
doubt be taken by the reader with the needful grain of nalt. 
Goldamith probably remembered the hawthorn bu»h, the church 
upon the hill, the waterorem gatherer, and iome other familiar 
objeote of the ' BeaU of his youth." But di«tanoe added charm 
to the regretful retrospect ; and in the detaiU his fancy played 
freely with his memories. It would be unwise, for eiample, 
to infer— as Mr. Hogan did— the decorations of the Three 
Pidgeont at Lissoy from the account of the inn in the poem.' 
Some twelve years bef. re iU publication, when he was living 
miserably in Green Arbour Court, Goldsmith had submitted to 
his brother Henry a sample of a heroi-comio poem desoribmg 
a Grub Street writer in bed in ' a paltry ale-house.' In this ' the 
sanded floor,' the ' twelve good rules ' and the broken tea-cups 
all played their parts as accessories, and even the double-dealing 
cheat had ite prototype in the poet's nightcap, which was ' a oap 
by night— a stocking all the d v.' A year or two later he ex- 
panded these lines in the Cilh ,i of the World, and the scene 
becomes the Red Lion in Drury Lane. From this second version 
he adapted, or extended again, the description of the inn parlour 
in The Deserted VUlage. It follows therefore, either that he 
borrowed for London the details of a house in Ireland, or that 
he used for Ireland the details of a house in London. If, on the 
other hand, it be contended that those details were common to 
both places, then the identification in these particulars of Auburn 
with Lissoy falls hopelessly to the ground 



Goldsmith's use of ' sentimental ' in the ' Prologue ' to She 
Stoops to Conquer (p. 109, 1. 36)— the only occasion upon which 
he seems to have employed it in his Pocnw— affords an excuse for 
bringing together one or two dispersed illustrations of the rise 
and growth of this once highly-popular adjective, not as yet 

' What follows is taken from the writer's 'Introdaction' to Mr. 
Edwin Abbey's illustrated edition of The Deserted VUlage, lfl02, p. ix. 


nwohed in the AT. B. D. Johiuon, who miut orten have heard it. 
ignores it aitogether i and in Todd'e edition oJ h.* DieliaHary 
(1818) it i« expreealjr marked with a itar aa one o( the modem 
worda which are lut to be found in the Dootor'a oollection. 
According to Mr. Sidney Lee'a admirable articie in the Diclionarg 
of National Biofrapky on Sterne, that author ia to be regarded 
aa the ' only begetter ' of the epithet. Mr. Lee layx that it finit 
occun in a letter of 1740 written by the future author of Tritram 
Shandu *o the MiM Lumley he afterwards married. Here U th« 
precise and characteristic passage :— ' I gave a thouaand pensive, 
penetrating ioolcs at the chair thou hadat so often graced, in 
those quiet and teniimenla: 'epasts— then laid down my liniff 
and fork, and took out my handkerchief, and clapped it across 
my face, and wept like a child ' (Sterne's Workt by Saintsbury, 
1804, V. 28). Nine years later, however circulated, ' sentimental ' 
has grown ' so much in vogue ' thai it has reached from London 
to the provinces. ' Mrs. BeUour ' (Lady Bradshaigh) writing 
from Lincolnshire to Richardson says:— 'Pray, Sir, give me 
leave to ask you . . . what, in your opinion, is the meaning of the 
word senlimentaf, so much in vogue amongst the polite, botu In 
town and coujtry T In letters and common conversation, I have 
asked several who make use of it, and have generally received 
for answer, it is— it is— seiitfmeirffl/. Every thing clever and 
agreeable is comprehended in that word ; but [I] am convinced 
a wrong interpreUtion is given, because it is impossible every 
thing clever and agreeable can be so common as this word. I am 
frequently astonUhed to hear such a one is a tenlmmlal man ; 
we were a aenlimenlal party ; I have been taking a aenlimenUU 
walk. And that I might be reckoned a little in the fashion, and. 
as I thought, show them the proper use of the word, about six 
weeks ago, I declared I had just received a setaimenlal letter. 
Having often laughed at the word, and found fault with the 
application of it, and this being the first time I ventured to make 
use of it, I was loudly congratulated upon the occasion : but 
I should be glad to know your interpretation of it ' (Richardson's 
Canapondenee. 1804, iv. pp. 9S2-3). The reply of the author 
of Claritta, which would have been interesting, is not given ; 
but it is clear that by this date ( 1749) ' sentimenUil ' must already 
have been rather overworked by 'the polite.' Eleven years 
after this, we meet with it in the Prologue to Colman's ' Drama- 



tiok Novel ' n( Pullf Hotuynmht. ' And then,' be wyi, com- 
menting upon the fiction o( the period,— 

And then n ttttinuMal !• the Stile, 
So chute, yet k bewitching all the while I 
Plot, and elopement, pueion, rape, and rapture. 
The total lum of ev'ry dear— dear— Chapter. 
With February, 1768, came Steme'i SitUimtiUdl Journtu upon 
which Weiley ha* thii comment i- ' I caiually took a volume 
of what ia calk ', " A SentimenUl Journey through France and 
lUly." aenhmitM I what it that T It ia not Engliih : he 
might an well say, CtmtinttM [!]. It ia not aenae. It conveya 
Ti'i 'InUrminate idea ; yet one fool makea many. And thia non- 
eeuical word (who would believe it 7) ia become a faahionablr 
one I' (Jouraai, February 11, 1772). In 1773, Goldimith putx 
it in the ' Dedication ' to Skt Sloopt ;—' The undertaking a 
comedy, not merely uniimeitlal, waa very dangeroua ; ' and 
Garrick (forgetting Kelly and Faht D^ieaey) uae* it more than 
once in hia ' Prologue ' to the aame pUy, e.g.—' Faces are bk>ckii 
in MittimefUal aoene*.' Further example* might eaaily be multi- 
plied, for the ward, in spite of Johnaon, bad now come to atay. 
Two yeara tubaequently we find Sheridan referring to 
The goddeaa of the woful countenance. 
The »entxmenial Muae I— 
in an occasional 'Prologue' to The Bivah. It must already 
have paaaed into the vocabulary of the learned. Todd gives 
examples from Shenstone and Langhome. Warton has it more 
than once in his Hittory of En^ith Pottry ; and it figures in the 
Euayt of Vicoeimua Knox. Thus academically launched, we 
need no longer follow its fortune*. 


To the Aldine edition of 1831, the Rev. John Mitford added 
Hcvoral fragments of translation from Goldsmith's EMays. About 
a third of these were traced by Bolton Comey in 1H46 to Itie 
Horace of Francis. He therefore compiled a freab collection, 
here given. 


Fnm a Frinck nrtim of Homer. 
n» ihouting army cryd with joy extreme. 
He eure miut oooquer, who himaeU era tame I 

Tht Bu, 17S9, p. 90. 

m^orC:'!" '"" ^'"°"" "■■•-«• — "-P"-- 
They knew and own'd the monarch of the main • 
Tb9 wa lubeiding apread* a level plain: 
The curling wave* before hii counwn fly: 
The parting eurfaoo leaves hia brazen axle dry. 

HuceUantuua Work; 1801, iv. 410. 

v^eZzt-'"^ """ '""°'"' "^' ' <"»""- "°» 

Say heavenly muae, their youthful fray, rehearse • 
Begin, ye daughter, of immortal verae ; 
Exulting rooka have crown'd the power of aongt 
And riven liaten'd aa they flowd along. 

MitcOlaiuma Worlu, 1801, iv. 127 

JiL°» bl'mTI'"" '""" °^"'' '"« «"" "'""^ ^ ^^ ^ 

Of all the 6ah that graze beneath the flood. 
He, only, ruminatea hia former food. 

Hitlory of Me Earlh, tc, 1771, iii. 6. 
Bolton Comey alao printa the .-oalation from the Spectator 

from the poathumoua . , n.^tion c. ■ .-ron'a Soman iomt" 
Thua, when 'v lov.. saWue^ t. e heart 
WithamiU., „ „r.n:; ch.l.: g feara, 
Ine aoul reject* the aid of ur 

And speaks in momc ,10 e than yeara. 
The Comic Romance of .}< .„ Scanon. 1775, ii. 161. 
It is unneceeaary to refer to any other of the poema attributed 
to Goldamith. MitfoM in„,„ded in hi. editi^ a eouS^ 
quatram, maerted in the Morning Ckronide for April 3. 1800 
wh.oh were aaid to be bv the poet ; but they do „' t rLL^' 
h« manner. Another , , ,ith the title of The Fair Thief was 
"vived in July, 1803. by an raonymoua writer in 4. S 


Chnnicle. as being possibly by Goldsmith, to whom it was 
assigned in an eighteenth-century anthology (1789-80). Ite 
discoverer, however, subsequently found it given in Walpole's 
NMe Author, (Park's edition, 1806) to Charles Wyndham, Earl 
of Egremont. It has no great merit j and may safely be neglected 
as an important addition to Goldsmith's Worha, already burdened 
with much which that critical author would never have reprinted 



In Letter ivi, vol. ii. pp. 139-41, of An Hiotory of England 
m a Senes of LeUtre from a NMeman to hi. Son, 1764, Goldsmith 
gives the following short account of the state of poetry in the 
hrst quarter of the Eighteenth Century. 

' But, of all the othe^ arts, poetry in this age was carried to the 
greatest perfection. The language, for some ages, had been 
improving, but now it seemed entirely divested of its roughness 
and terbarity. Among the poets of this period we may place 
John Philips, author of several poems, but of none more admired 
than that humourous one, entitled, Tht Splendid ShiUing ; he 
lived m obscurity, and died just above want. William Congreve 
deserves also particular notice; his comedies, some of which 
were but cooUy received upon their first appearance, seemed to 
mend upon repetition ; and he is, at present, justly allowed the 
foremoBt m that species of dramatic poesy. His wit is ever just 
and brilliant ; his sentiments new and lively ; and his ele .ance 
equal to his reguUrity. Next him Vanbrugn is placed, whose 
humour seems more natural, and characters more new ; but he 
owes too many obligations to the French, entirely to pass for 
an original ; and his total disregard to decency, in a great measure, 
impairs his merit. Farquhar is still more lively, and, perhaps 
more entertaining than either; hU pieces still continue the 
favourite performances of the stage, and bear frequent repetition 
without satiety ; but he often mistakes pertness for wit, and 
seldom strikes his characters with proper force or originality. 
However, he died very young ; and it is remarkable, that he 



contmued to improve » he grew older; h« I«t play, entitled 

both „ » poet and pro« writer, de«rve8 the highest regardTd 
imitation. His Campaign, ^d LeUer to Lord H^liZ Z /J^ 
are m«terpiece, in the former, and hia Es«,y, puWieh^inlhe' 

Z^:liT ""f '«» -'"> «'"«■"- and precision ; a^d ha 

example. Steele was Addison's friend and admirer ; hiseomedies 
are perfeoUypo«te.ohaste. and genteel ; nor were his other w»k 
contemptible ; he wrote on several subject., and yet it is amlz 
ng. m the mult plicity of his pursuits, how he found le surTfor 
the discussion of any. Ever persecuted by creditors, whom Ws 

sCrtTbv ^"'-."'""H^i"' T^"''""'' i»P-ticable scheme^^ 
suggested by lU-grounded ambition. Dean Swift was the nm 

mere was a spirit of romance mixed with all the works of .!,» 
poe^who prec^i^ him; or. in other word^ hirtt;',*^ 

was a place left for him. who, careless of censure, should describe 

Doioness of it. He was dry, sarcastic, and severe ; and suited 

n rvo^' TZ *" *l,*"T "' ""' "■°'«'"- •-ing'clisc L^ 
nervous. In this period also flourished many of subordinate 
fame. Pnor was the first who adopted the ivfnch elegant etv 
t^hrn^oL^'Z * T'l "'" " "-'' "" »"« ^^^^rZ 
which he can lay any claim to applause in poetry. Rowe ™a 
only outdone by Shakespeare and Otway asHraric w^Zl Z 
has fewer absurdities than either ; and Is perha« r^th , 

iS;.^ '^^ 'V' - '»'<^- -^'"nrrrr: 

have cont^h, »^' . r ■* " """°"« '***■■ "'»° the rest may 

the. his deT >"'t^;:s^:ri::;r^z.n: 

fon. and preface, to the poem already mentioned ;'i„ whS. he 



has shown the truest wit, with the most refined elegance. Pamell, 
though he has written but one poem, namely, Tht Hermit, yet 
has found a place among the English first rate poets. Gay, like- 
wise, by his fahla and PiuloraU, has acquired an equal reputa- 
tion. But of all who have added to the stock of English Poetry, 
Pope, perhaps, deserves the first place. On him foreigners look 
as one of the most successful writers of his time ; his versification 
is the most harmonious, and his correctness the most remarkable 
of all our poets. A noted contemporary of his own calls the 
English the finest writers on moral topics, and Pope the noblest 
moral writer of all the English. Mr. Pope has somewhere named 
himself the last English Muse ; and, indeed, since his tinre, we 
have seen scarce any production that can justly lay claim to 
immortality ; he carried the language to its highest perfection ; 
and those who have attempted still farther to improve it, instead 
of ornament, have only caught finery.' 





To Tke Beauties of En^iah Poeay, 2 vols., 1767, Goldsmith pre- 
fixed, in eitoh case, ' short introductory criticisms.' They are, 
as he says, * rather designed for boys than men ' ; and aim only 
at being * obvious and sincere ' ; but they carry his views on the 
subject somewhat farther than the foregoing account from the 
Uitlory of Enjlaiti. 


This seems to be Mr. Pope's most finished production, and is, 
perhaps, the most perfect in our language. It exhibits stronger 
powers of imagination, more harmony of numbers, and a greater 
knowledge of the world, than any other of this poet's works ; 
and it is probable, if our country were called upon to show a speci- 
men of their genius to foreigners, this would be the work here 
fixed upon. 




Ills 18 a very fine poem, but overloaded with epithet ' Th. 

pathetic and interesting. "«•»'*«' P«t of the poem is 


truer idea Of the ancien.thtr:\ranrt:re^:^<rr""^'" 

Hir;,^Thrr nltMnTinTsr '" """- " ^' "-•« 

, l>™«."'« ^«™», 1770, xxiv. 

Mr. Kegan P.„,. i. SS^, o?:„1„t.''/;;-'oh'^S: "^ "■" '""■ 


our old English poeta in general, yet, on this minute snbjeot, the 
antiqnity of the atyle prodncea a very ludiorooa solemnity. 


This poem, by Denham, though it may have been exceeded 
by later attempts in description, yet deserves the highest applause, 
as it far surpasses all that went before it : the concluding part, 
though a little too much crowded, is very masterly. 


The harmony of numbers in this poem is very fine. It is 
rather drawn out to too tedious a length, although the passions 
vary with great judgement. It may be considered as superior 
to anything in the epistolary way ; and the many translations 
which have been made of it into the modem languages, are in 
some measure a proof of this. 


The opening of this poem is incomparably fine. The latter 
part is tedious and trifling. 



Li the Year MDCCL 

Few poems have done more honour to English genius than 
this. There is in it a strain of political thinking that was, at that 
time, new in our poetry. Had the harmony of this been equal 
to that of Pope's versification, it would be incontestably the 
finest poem in our language ; but there is a dryness in the num- 
bers which greatly lessens the pleasure excited both by the poet's 
judgement and imagination.' 

* Ambrose Philips: 

' See introductory note to The TnvtUtr, p. 162. 





inferior to him T^. T, ^ °' ^^^""'^ '°»'"'«^' " » «> f»r 
line, ha^e Cn J^e„t„ °' ,!.' *^'"'™'' "'«' °"'°y <" "-e 


oriX'L"L'r:u^s:'»:rrr"'- ^*^-- 

[Ambro^l PliilicB. h„. T' burlesque on those of 

LttheTi! i'^of irX''tfLfr'"« '*• '"' -" 

Theocritus than B^nvo^erV^ul' . , ' ^ "'°" "^"Wes 

The« runs through the wLfatr "', " '"'*' -l-atsoever. 

should ever distinp.W> tlttlt f '"'"" "''"^""y *'"'"' 
th« .nti„ . °""K"»'> th's species of composition ; but how far 

umoTrwmnrt'Z™' "1 ""^ "'^ contribute Ttt 
the simpliciry wrn,!!irr ' It' "' "'^ •»"' ' """O "«" 

»«,uit^ 'orth7:r:rcsr"'°« - -»" --o- 



one time. heM .^■r.Z^XT';:; ^^^L^^ 
Aquua non capit mnscas ' (Apostoliua). 


age produces its fwhionabledunoes, who, by following the transient 
topic, or hamour, of the day, supply talkative ignorance with 
materials for conversation. 

Here follows one of the best versified poems in our language, 
and the most masterly production of its author. The severity 
with which Walpole is here treated, was in consequence of that 
minister having refused to provide for Swift in England, when 
applied to for that purpose in the year 1725 (if I remember right). 
The severity of a poet, however, gave Walpole very little uneasi- 
ness. A man whose schemes, like this minister's, seldom ex- 
tended beyond the exigency of the year, but little regarded the 
contempt of posterity. 

This poem, as Mr. Pope tells us himself, cost much attention 
and labour ; and, from the easiness that appears in it, one would 
be apt to think as much. 

Tina sixth canto of the Diapetuary, by Dr. Oarth, has more 
jierit than the whole preceding part of the poem, and, as I am 
told, in the first edition of this work it is more correct than as 
here exhibited ; but that edition I have not been able to find. 
The praises bestowed on this poem are more than have been 
given to any other ; but our approbation, at present, is cooler, 
for it owed part of its fame to party.' 


Seliu : OB, THE Shepbebd's Mobal. 

The following eclogues', written by Mr. Collins, are very 

pretty : the images, it must be owned, are not very local ; for 

the pastoral subject could not well admit of it. The description 

■ Cf. Dedication of The TravtUer, II. 34-46. 

' i. e. — Selim, Hassan, Agib and Seoander, and Abra. Goldamith 
admire<l Collins, whom he calls in the Enquiry, 1769, p. 143, *the 
neglected author of the Persian eclogues, which, however inacou- 
rato, eicel any in our language.' He borrowed freely from him in 
the Threnodia Auguatalitf q.v. 

of Asiatic magnificence, and manners is a snl.W. 

variety of poetical imagery. 

_ . , Br Mr. J. Philips. 

This is reckoned tlie best parodv of Milton ;„ i 

attempt;, J::tS^ so'lr^ ^1^""'" "" '"'""' 
manner, when we are fnce ZTI tZ way."'"""" ""' °"'"'' 


Mr. Hawkins Browne, the author of these as I am tolH h a 

su°eci:t°"wirh:r:si"i' r '-' - -^- -" ^ 

ratherlmltaTfllL^an'^XIC::'. '" *"" "^"-">« - 


By Db. Pabnbil. 

or ftirjrJXhrtHr' "^■"'^'^ ""- -"p"^ ^pp"-". 


has^Ll^tZ""!' ''""'t " "'""'"'• ' ^ri^^- and affected poet 
has told this story with unusual simplicitv it i. ^fK^/ • 
here for being much esteemed by the puMilthlVl Xor" 



-un. Which were ..^rla^rim^::-—;^ tb": 
' From The Seiuont. 


runa a truth o( thinking throngb this poem, without which it 
would be of little value, aa Savage is, in other reipeota, but an 
indifferent poet. 

Mr. Mo[o]re was a poet that never had Justice done him while 
living ; there are few of the modenu have a more correct taate, 
or a more pleasing manner of expressing their thoughts. It was 
upon these fables [Nos. v, vi, and zvi of the FMa for the Laditt] 
he chiefly founded his reputation ; yet they are, by no means, 
his best production. 

This little poem, by Mr. Nugent [afterwards Lord Clare] is 
very pleasing. The easiness of the poetry, and the justice of the 
thoughts, constitute its principal beauty. 

This bagatelle, for which, by the by, Mr. Prior has got his 
greatest reputation, was a tale told in all the old Italian collections 
of jests, and borrowed from thence by Fontaine. It had been 
translated once or twice before into English, yet was never 
regarded till it fell into the hands of Mr. Prior. A strong instance 
how everything is improved in the hands of a man of genius. 

This poem [by Swift] is very fine ; and though in the same 
strain with the preceding [Prior's Ladlt\ is yet superior. 

MR. AD 40N. 

This elegy (by Mr. Tiokell) is one of the finest in our language ; 
there is so little new that can be f~M upon the death of a friend, 
after the complaints of Ovid and iha Latin Italians, in this way, 
that one is surprised to see so much novelty in this to strike us, 
and so much interest to aSect. 


have .«rp«JSf U L »t'h'"°'r1. '*"'*'• '" '"™ '° 

Thi. ^ ]^"'""' "• ™" ^"» MDCCXLVL 

reg«xitonunil»rs.nd lanoZT" ! ""^banicl p.rt. with 
work „ thi, req„"r iuUh^L'h T .r ■*'"*' " "' »'"<'' « 


vermfloat on ir^l** "'''' "ked "pon a. a Blovenly «,rt of 
written. awTp^^^nrhl "" '?" " ""'"^ " ™ 

the compliment, b«tow^t^f Jk°' "''"'«■ ""• ">« ""^ <>' 

heard the answer o^SrLXcharir^ho^^S';:^^ •'"^ 
h« poem upon CromWl came to Je flnlr "''° "^"^ """■«- 
upon himseU. ' Your mai^TT- ,• Z ^^ •"' f'^mtK 

^U always .uJrLTSon?"" '''""' *^'"' "»' 

ine t>Yench claim th s [by Mr W>IW1 „ w-i 
T>.whou..oeveritbe,ong,^th:LK:l:,t^^^^^^ to them. 

Bv Db. Yopbo. 

-he tr ZTl Uk» "T' '"' ™"-"- ^ ''- -"ence only 
With e^aggeraZ appW :^ ZT""? "" *'^""'"^- "'«"'' 
Poaitioni. either tu.^^S'rm^Ctllb^.r ^'""'"'' ''■ 


Yoang'i Sktini were in higher repuUtion when publithed. 
than they stand in at prewnt. He aeenu fonder o( duzling than 
pleuing ; of railing our admiration for hia wit, than our dlalike 
of the foUiei he ridioules. 


Theae ballad* of Mr. Shenatone are ohieBy oommended for the 
natural ainiplioity of the thoughts and the harmony ol the Temi- 
iication. However, they are not excellent in either. 

This, by Dr. Byrom, is a better eSort than the preceding 
[a ballad by Shenstone]. 

This [' Despairing beside a clear stream '] by Hr. Rowe, is 
better than anything of the lund in our Unguage. 

This work, by the Duke of Buckingham, is enrolled among 
our great English productions. The precepts are sensible, the 
poetry not indifferent, but it has been praised more than it 

This is thought one of Dr. Swift's correoteat pieces ; ito chief 
merit, indeed, is the elegant ease with which a story, but ill- 
conceived in itaelf, is tokL 

What Prior meant by this poem I can't understand ; by the 
Greek motto to it one would think it was either to laugh at the 
subject or the reader. There are some parts of it very fine ; 
and let them save the badne>s of the rest.